The Journalist and the Lady
by Crystabel.Shalott
Summary: Downton Abbey AU. Sybil Crawley, youngest daughter of the earl of Grantham, and Tom Branson, journalist, meet by chance but what seems a one time encounter will change their lives forever. "Tom Branson had respected her opinions and encouraged her to talk about them, making her feel like a person that mattered and not just like a piece of tapestry there only to be displayed".
1. March 1914: First Encounter

_A/N: This is my new Sybil/Tom story, it started out as just an idea but due to positive feedback and a lot of enthusiasm I decided to develop it and here it is. I hope you will enjoy it, let me know. _

_I am sorry for any possible mistakes, and if the characters are a little too much out of character._

_A special thanks to __**odestalovebaby **__who helped me finding a title for this story, also this chapter is __**gothamgirl28**__'s late birthday present._

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**March 1914, First Encounter**

The air was filled with a cacophony of sounds. It was irrelevant that the music of the gramophone was soft and the people were talking quietly, mixed together and multiplied they created an unpleasant noise that echoed in the large rooms for what seemed an infinity. A spiral of never-ending murmur. Because of the noise Tom Branson was standing outside on the balcony on his own, his arms leaned on the railing, he tried to catch some fresh air and a moment of rest before dinner was served. Thirty minutes,for thirty minutes he had been there at the Mundhi's annual dinner and he already wanted to leave not that someone could have blamed him considering that the reasons were more than valid. It wasn't really because of the bow tie and the shirt that seemed to choke him - making him want to open up the first couple of buttons - but because of the headache he had had ever since that same morning. He could feel the pain hammering against his temples and he felt as if his head was going to explode any minute now. Tom massaged his temples for the infinitesimal time that day, trying to ease the pain but it was all worthless, what he needed was silence a bed and a good night full of sleep. Things that unfortunately he couldn't have had, and even if he did he still had work to do: writing a detailed article about the evening. The only thought of it made him snort, it wasn't his job to write about posh people and their trepidation for big events and the past season his job was to write about politics and yet there he was at the famous dinner party given each year by the Mundhi family, or better to say he was surrounded by a circle of people of whom he did not approve, constantly reminded about things that had to change, things he always wrote about and that for once he had to praise.

_John definitely owes me more than one favor, even if it's not his fault that he couldn't have come._

"Dinner is ready Mr." said a footman bringing him back from his thoughts.

"Thank you".

Tom followed everyone else into the dining room and sat down at his assigned place. He wanted desperately to leave and there was no way he would have survived all the curses. He looked himself around, studying the faces of the people sitting next to him, what was there to talk about? Nothing, at least for how he saw things. So what was he going to write about? He should have asked John for advice, he would have written the first draft by himself and then he would have handed it to John the following day before the article would have been published, and maybe this way things wouldn't have ended in a disaster and his observation would have been acceptable. His observations, if one could have called them like that: the first rule was no personal opinions. Lines about inequality, waste and differences between social classes - the subject he usually discussed - were not accepted.

Sybil mentally scolded herself for having accepted the Mundhi's dinner invitation. However hard she tried she couldn't remember the reasons that had caused her to accept and, at this point, it didn't matter anymore because - she was sure - now they were vanished leaving her, bored to death, in a room full of people - of whom less than ten were acquainted with her - who were not interested in doing a real conversation or, if they were, they weren't interested in doing it with her. Probably because she was young, a girl, and her opinions didn't matter. She was used to it of course, at home it happened constantly mainly because no one accepted that she was political, that she had opinions and wanted to talk about it. It looked as if they wanted her to be a piece of tapestry, but she wasn't. She was a person with a full working mind and the dream to make her voice hear, her opinions matter and change, even if only a little, the world. She wanted to have a real education, something that French and how to curtsy were not, and make something of her life. Something that perhaps would have helped her to get rid of the feeling of being a complete uselessness.

"But why shouldn't girls go to university and have a higher education?" said Sybil to her sister Mary who was sitting right next to her.

"Not here Sybil"

"But when? The world is changing, women should get equality. Don't you think?"

"I am sure of it Sybil, but please stop it here. What would papa say if he knew"

She didn't care and perhaps hearing once more about his daughter's opinion would have made him accept the truth and if he didn't that wouldn't have stopped her in expressing and routing for what she believed in. Things had to change, women had to have equal rights and participate actively in politics.

"And don't pout. Just for once please act as a grownup"

Pouting? She wasn't pouting. She just hadn't the strength nor the will to keep on smiling.

Tom tried not to smile as he overheard the brief exchange of words between the Crawley sisters. It made him feel a little better knowing that he wasn't the only one at that table who was out of his place maybe not regarding social class but definitely concerning ideas.

"Lady Sybil Crawley"

Tom looked at the man sitting right next to him, he didn't understand what he was trying to say.

"Sybil Crawley, the girl you were looking at. It's just that I saw you quite puzzled and thought that you had not been introduced. I can introduce you later if you want. She is the youngest daughter of the earl of Grantham, you might have heard about him"

Indeed he did. He had written something about the big estates of the county once, not about Downton in particular but it was among them so he was quite informed. But aside from the researches, he was sure that Lord Grantham was well-known by anyone who lived in the surroundings of Downton or by everyone who belonged to his same social class.

"I know something about him, Mr...?"

"Sir Anthony Strallan"

"Tom Branson"

"I saw you earlier, you were on your own"

"It's not really my kind of evening"

"Not mine either, I'm far too old but this keeps my life busy"

Tom had definitely other ideas about how to spent time and keep himself busy, but he didn't say anything to Sir Anthony it wasn't the man's fault that he was in a bad mood and didn't feel well.

"You probably don't agree with me"

"I'm not used to this, after all I'm just here to write an article about the evening"

"The Mundhi's and their big dinner. For what paper you said you are writing?"

"The York Daily Report"

Conversation with Sir Anthony was rather simple, and Tom spent the rest of dinner chatting mainly with him. There had been and irksome interaction in a general discussion about working class in which he was silenced nearly immediately because he _was_ working class, and he talked moved by his political believes, believes that were not really approved of.

"But why should things change?" asked Mr Mundhi.

"I think..." Sybil started her sentence but Mary gave her a nudge with the elbow to silence her once more. She sighed, paying attention not to do it to loud or Mary would have nudged her again.

After the last course was served and everyone had finished, the guests gathered in the living room and, just as said, Sir Anthony introduced Tom to Sybil. Tom just learned that Sir Anthony owned an estate near Downton and was an old acquaintance of Lord Grantham, they weren't exactly close friends but their paths met more than once. What he didn't know was that Sir Anthony thought that a conversation between Sybil and Tom would have encouraged Sybil to talk about her interests. Maybe he was doing wrong but that was irrelevant at the moment. Edith told him how much her sister wanted to change things, how once she get caught stealing her father's newspapers but even without Edith's description whenever he was at Downton and found himself in a discussion that vaguely reminded politics he noticed Sybil's trepidation to speak her own mind. now she had the chance, Sir Anthony was sure that Tom Branson would have listened to the girl carefully and would have not lessen her remarks. What wrong could there have been anyway? It was unlikely that they would have seen each other again.

"Lady Sybil, might I introduce you to Mr. Branson. I'm sure you will find his ideas quite interesting"

Sybil stretched her hand out only to immediately take it back, unsure if it was something she should have done. She didn't care but maybe he did. She looked at him and then at Sir Anthony, puzzled about this unexpected presentation. Why was Sir Anthony introducing her to this young man? What was the point?

"It's a pleasure. Oh Sir Anthony, Edith sends her regards"

Tom saw Sir Anthony's face light up, his eyes made transpire fondness as Sybil named what must have been her sister. While Anthony and Sybil started talking about common acquaintances - though Tom noticed that the name that came out most was Edith - he looked at the young girl standing in front of him. She was pretty, no, beautiful: an English rose. Dark hair, tied up in a simple hairstyle behind her neck with some strains of her that fell down framing her face, pale skin that seemed to glow in contrast with her hair and dress with silver flowers on it. Her eyes were of the same shade as ice and yet there was nothing cold in them, her entire attitude was friendly and easy-going and as she conversed with Sir Anthony all the annoyance and boredom which before had been more than obvious, were slowly fading away.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed Sybil's statement, which he wasn't sure was because the head ache that was still hammering against his temples or because he looked at her for too long. He hoped it was because of the first reason not wanting to appear as a fool, especially with a person he had just met. A girl, a young girl he had to remind himself and a daughter of an earl furthermore. What if she found him creepy?

"Sir Anthony tells me that you are a journalist and that you are Irish"

"I am both. I write for 'The York Daily Report', for the section of politics"

Sybil was quite surprised, how was it that a political journalist ended up doing a reportage about a dinner party?

"Then why are you here this evening?" she asked, trying not to sound to curious.

"A friend asked me a favor and I wasn't in the position to say no" he said, thinking for a moment to John and his wife who got in early labor. "And here I am, investigating about people and dishes in order to write a detailed account of it for tomorrow" he immediately added.

"It must be quite a change from what you usually write"

"It is, and it will be a once in a lifetime event, I have no intention in letting it happen again. I'm sorry but I couldn't help but overhearing at dinner that you support women's rights"

"I suppose I do" Sybil felt a little reticent, she was not used to be encouraged to speak about her opinions. Until now she was used to be diminished at light's speed. Tom Branson's interest seemed genuine, and if it wasn't why ask her in first place?

"You can speak freely Milady, I won't include it in the article I have to write"

"Lady Sybil Crawley and her opinions about politics, papa would have a shock if it should appear in the newspaper. But I was not worrying about that, I'm just not used to people asking about my opinions that's all"

Branson smiled to Sybil, well it was unlikely hear the daughter of an earl talk about certain matters, especially if they were the opposite of how she had probably been raised.

"I know what you are thinking: that I must be quite an element in the larger picture of my family. I am and yes, my father often tries to persuade me that my ideas are wrong and too progressive. the point is each of us believes in what he thinks is right, and I believe that there are many things that should change. Wait, things are already changing we just have to admit it and keep pace with the times. Why do you think the minister doesn't accept it?"

"Because sometimes people are blind to inevitable changes. Not only the minister, everyone. We think it's safer to stick with the past, when in reality this attachment to the old times could only bring ruin. The world won't freeze in a specific moment just because people are not ready to get on"

"You talk like a politician. Why don't you enter into politics?"

"It's mainly about money"

"It's a pity, I am sure you would do well"

"You see, it's not only about women's right and freedom for Ireland. There is an enormous gap between the aristocracy and the poor, this would be something that has to be changed. For starters" he paused a moment and then he remembered with whom he was talking, she didn't seem the person to take it as an offense but he didn't want to risk "I'm sorry Milady, I didn't mean to offend you or your family. I may disapprove of the highest ranks in society but I have nothing against you or your parents personally, I don't even know them"

"No offense taken:. I understand your point. But please stop calling me Milady"

"I can't take such a liberty, I'm sorry. But I can stick with Lady Sybil"

"I'm sorry, it's... I don't care much about my title and sometimes I tend to forget about conventions. If it was for me: I would forget all this nonsense. My biggest ambition is to find myself a job and be useful but I doubt it will ever happen. My parents will never allow it... I must be boring you to death"

"No, no. It's interesting and fascinating. Have you already in mind what you want to do?"

"Not now, but I am sure that I have to find something to do. My life just seems an entire waste of time, it's doing nothing that is the enemy right?"

"I think so, yes. I hope you will find your way"

"Thank you, I..."

Sybil had been interrupted by someone who placed a hand on her shoulder, in order to get her attention. She turned around and saw her sister Mary standing behind her.

"Sybil what are you doing?"

"I was talking to Tom Branson. Mr Branson this is my sister Mary Crawley"

"I'm afraid we have to go" said Mary to her sister.

"It's a pleasure to meet you" said Tom, even though he just received a nod with the head on Mary's side.

"It has been a nice change of ideas, very illuminating" said Sybil to Tom, and she really meant it : he listened to her with all his attention. He didn't think her silly or a dreamer, he believed in what she said and wished her luck about her future. It was the first time she talked openly about her ideas without being judged or scolded or worse, silenced. He had respected her opinions and encouraged her to tell more about them. They had been equals in the argument: a man and a woman discussing politics none of their ideas diminished by the other. She liked it, no, she loved it and all of a sudden what seemed to be one of the many dull evenings in her life became one of the most exciting. She felt like a person, a real proper person and not some piece of tapestry that was there only to be displayed. Tom Branson awakened something in her, something that had been latent for years: a new kind of resolution. And as Sybil sat down in the car that would have taken her home she promised herself that one day she would have changed her life completely.

"Have you gone mad?" Mary's harsh voice interrupted her thoughts about the just passed evening. By the tone of voice Sybil knew already what was coming next: no doubt Mary had to make a preach.

"Why?"

"You spent an entire evening talking with a journalist and I have no doubts that tomorrow we will read everything about Lady Sybil Crawley and her inability to shut up when it is required "

"No we won't. He is not like that and he said he wouldn't have done it"

"Don't be such a baby. He was using you! What were you talking about anyway?"

"Tom Branson wasn't using me. And if you must know we discussed politics"

"Heavens, so it will be the greatest scoop ever"

"No it won't, nothing will happen"

Sybil had just met him but she was sure that Tom had been honest about his intentions that he wasn't lying only to make her open up even more. It was strange, considering that she had just met him (and that this was probably going to be one encounter in a lifetime), but she had no doubts. She couldn't explain it to herself let alone to her sister and even if she could have found the words to do so, Mary wouldn't have understood and probably would have been even more mad at her because her complete and utter trust towards people she just met.

"We'll see, but please darling grow up and don't be such a baby. Even if he doesn't publish anything you shouldn't have talked with him in first place"

"Why? Because he is below us? He is a person and you can discuss things with people, the social rank doesn't matter"

"Don't live in such a made up world, it matters Sybil. Maybe not for you but for the rest of the world it does, and it can't be Sybil Crawley contra mundum. And please next time don't monopolize conversation with the same man for the rest of the evening, people might talk"

"What? Am I not permitted to talk to whom I want?"

"You can talk to whom you want but not really for how long you want, especially if it is someone beneath you and whom you just met"

"Sometimes I really don't understand you all, and I don't understand conventions"

_They can be really stupid sometimes_ though she didn't add this part of the sentence. It would have been useless to argue with Mary, she wouldn't have changed her mind anyway. Sometimes it was really amazing how much her sister could be close minded even though she often came out as the rebel of the family, and yet deep down she was just like the others. They all thought her much more than a rebel than she actually was.

Tom's headache was getting worse, his vision was blurry and his stomach was churning, the journey on road - even if it had been short - had strained him entirely. He crushed on the chair at the kitchen table and, for a moment, indulged in the silence and loneliness of the room. Then he crossed his arms on the old wooden surface of the table leaning his head on it. For a moment he thought about going to sleep now and write the article when he was rested but he knew that if he wouldn't have written at least the first draft he would have never done it willingly. Besides the deadline was the oncoming afternoon and unless he wanted to write the piece in a hurry and have a mediocre result, it was better to start now. Once the first draft was ready, as much as it was badly written, it wouldn't have taken much to adjust it. So Tom took a piece of paper and a pencil and started to write.

_The Mundhi's hold their annual dinner, a moment of the year seen by the most important families as a chance to discuss politics and other matters [...] what can be said with all sincerity is that the event has been a success and there is no doubt upon the eagerness for next year when it will happen again._

With one last effort he read it again, making sure not to have expressed any of his opinions and what mattered most was that - just as he said - the name Sybil Crawley didn't appear once.

The article may have not named her but he would have certainly not forgot the girl who made his evening become more interesting and even though he knew that it was completely impossible, considering both their social positions, he desperately wanted to see her again.


	2. March 1914, Talking to John and Emalee

_A/N: Thanks to **Odestalovebaby** and **Shana**.**rose** for their reviews._

_Also this chapter is for **Odestalovebaby** because she is always so kind and gives me her opinion about the story line and eventual dialogues._

_Enjoy!_

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**March 1914, talking to John and Emalee**

The journey Ripon**-**York was, on average, an hour and thirty minuets long depending on the weather, the conditions of the roads and if there were passengers who had to get on or off the omnibus at every stop. Travel time wasn't a problem for Tom nor was it the fact that he had to do the journey twice a day for the entire week, he never thought of it as wasted time since he had always kept himself busy - making the time pass quicker - either by reading a book or by working on an article he had to hand to his superior due to an immediate deadline or writing down ideas about newly received assignments.

The best advantage of taking the omnibus was that, even if he added the price of the ticket (which he bought only for the coldest months because otherwise he would have gone by bike) at the list of things he needed for living, the costs he had were still fewer than the one he would have had if he lived in York, which permitted him to reach the end of the month with some money put aside. Money, he was sure might have become handy in future: something might have happened - who could have known - and he would have been prepared if times of hardship would have presented themselves in his life.

Living with small amounts of money wasn't a problem and even if his salary would have permitted it, he would still live without indulging with the superfluous: the necessity of living in full regalia wasn't something he had never been familiar with nor did he wish to feel it. Maybe it was because of his background, because of the way his parents had raised him or because of his own personal inclination, probably it was caused by a mix of it and all this parts were equally important. But before everything else his background was most certainly one of the defining factors who made him what he was that day.

Tom Branson lived in a farm in the county of Galway before his family moved to Dublin. The Bransons were a big family, Tom had two elder sisters - Evelyn and Saroise - one elder brother - Kieran - and three younger brothers - Damien, Aiden and Dylan -. The money his parents earned was sufficient just enough to arrive at the end of the month and all the eldest children helped out making the situation working a little better than it was before. But despise the fact that their children had indeed found a work, both Ava and Sean Branson taught them to take very seriously their academic studies even if they wouldn't have received a higher education and they should have never stopped in believing in themselves. No matter what their back ground was they had the same chances to better their lives as much as anybody else. And now that the first four children had grown up they had been able to get good jobs. Evelyn was a midwife, Saroise a secretary, Tom a journalist and Kieran had his own a garage. He maintained the same position ever since he was young but his decision was driven by his passion for what he was doing.

Tom used to work in a garage too, he worked in one of them as his first article got published. He smiled at the memory that came back to his mind: the happiness he felt as he saw the piece on the newspaper it made him feel worth of something and until that moment, despise he often wrote thing ideas about everyday life, he never considered that someone else that wasn't family could have been interested in his ideas too. He had told his parents and they had been happy and proud, told him not to give up and try again but always keeping his feet on the ground.

So he did, and then he received a part-time job at a small newspaper, one day he received a letter from 'The York Daily Report' inviting him to work for it. And there he was twenty-four years old with a steady job in a place where he found himself at ease and with people he estimated as colleagues. But this, the place he worked for, was something his parents did not forgive him. England. He worked in England, of all places he went to England. For his parents it looked like turning his back to everything he ever believed in, to them. As he told them that he would have accepted the offer, that he would have moved to Yorkshire there had been lots of arguments and words that both parts later started to regret.

When he accepted it, Tom would have never imagined that he would have felt good working for 'The York Daily Report' and that his colleagues would have become his closest friends and some kind of extensive family and despite his plans for the future included going back to Ireland one day he would have ever considered his days in York an important part of his lives and if possible he would have tried to keep in touch with what would have become his former colleagues.

The driver announced the terminus of the journey and Tom followed the rest of the passengers out in the street, making his way towards the newspaper. the headquarters of 'The York Daily report' were in a small building in the center of York. The office was positioned on the first floor whereas the machinery to publish it, occupied the second. It was a small and recently new redaction, created a couple of years before Tom was hired by Declan Smith who used his inheritance to build the place from nothing, investing in his future and the one of others with success. Six people were the regular staff, seven including Declan who was the director, but articles and letters from people from outside the journal were accepted and published frequently. He was in very good relationship with all of them but the one he got along better was John Clay, who was like a brother and a best friend for Tom.

Tom pushed the door open and walked in, everyone was already there typing article that would have gotten published the following day.

"Good morning" he said, getting some attention.

"How was the evening? Did you enjoy the posh food? Have you got used to the lifestyle?" was the first thing he was asked.

"Really? Is this the most important thing you have to ask? Not even a how are you?"

Sometimes they all reminded him of his younger brothers when they were over excited about something.

"No. So tell us: Did you enjoy it?"

For a moment Tom thought about answering in a positive way but they wouldn't have believed him anyway: they knew far too much about his position about certain matters, they were just asking rhetorical questions maybe with the only intention to see for how long he managed to bear the evening. Once they would have found out well... They would have joked about it for the next couple of months.

"No, I didn't. Everything was awful including the food"

"Branson you are really a disappointment for us. Was there a pretty girl at least?"

"No not really" he answered, though as soon as he did the name Sybil Crawley came back to his mind and he immediately repressed the thought of her. It seemed wrong to think about her: they just met, once, they would have never seen each other again and belonged to two completely different circles of society. Besides what really interested him about her wasn't only her pretty face more the brain, her dreams and opinions.

_Forget about her._

"That's a pity. it would have given us something to talk about while you are away. Some juicy gossip"

Everyone laughed, Tom too. It was this he liked most: the way how they joked about each other without being offensive, the silly questions and the laughter that made it easier to go through the day. And that made the atmosphere familiar and enjoyable.

"I'm sorry to let you old down, but I thought you would have had enough to gossip about John's newborn daughter"

"That's not juicy gossip! We are far more interested in Tom Branson's love life"

"Since I haven't got one you have to find something else or wait"

"We will wait then, you know that you are our favorite subject to talk about. You don't know how much fun we have while talking about you behind your back"

"I know already, and I'm glad that I bring you such joy and fun"

"It's an honor"

"Still... Is Declan already in his office? I have to hand him the article about yesterday's party. Then I'm going quickly to say hi to John, have you already been there?"

"Declan is i his office yes. And no we didn't, we thought it was better to give him some time before storming in. But tell him we say hi and we will come once things have settled down"

"I will"

Tom walked to the office and knocked a couple of times on the door.

"Do come in"

He opened the door and entered the office, Duncan was sitting at his desk positioning in the right order the articles of the following day.

"I bought you the article about last night, no comments or anything it is sober and seems like an elegy"

"Well done, I'm sorry for what happened. That you had to switch places with John, I know that you don't really approve of such things"

"I do, but it won't kill me. It's no one's fault that Emalee went into early labor"

"Thank you again. Are you going to see John now?"

"Aye. Shall I say hi from you too"

"Yes please. We are organizing to pass one of these days, would you be so kind and ask him when it's best?"

"Sure, I will let you know."

"Tom, there is something else I wanted to ask: do you want to follow the by-election up close? Write more than just a couple of articles when the results come out? Maybe exposing the different ideas and comparing them?"

"It would be an honor and a pleasure. At last something I'm good at"

"So the evening was really a disaster was it?"

"Well before it even started my head seemed to explode, and add the fact that I couldn't take part in conversations because who really wants to know a real opinion from someone in the working class"

"Well, keep the gripes for John, though he might have been a little busy doing the housework and helping Emalee to care about it. It will be something interesting seeing John coping with parenthood"

"It will, but they are going to be such wonderful parents."

"They will be, and now go. Thanks for the article again"

"You are welcome. I'll come back later"

After having said goodbye to everyone and beard a couple more digs about the evening that just passed, he made his way to John's house. It wasn't far away from the office which would have been convenient in future just as it had been in the past. As he arrived he knocked on the door and announced himself and in a matter of seconds John opened him the door. He stood there, his ruffled red hair pointing in every possible direction, dark circles under his eyes and a pale face. Tom couldn't have blamed his friend, it had been rough days for him: there had been Emalee's early and troubled labor, and now the adjustment to parenthood. But despite the visible fatigue, he radiated happiness.

"Tom! Good to see you man"

"The thing is definitely something mutual. How are you? And Emalee? And the baby?"

"It's just been three days Tom, but I like it. And Isabel she is adorable, you will see yourself. And we are all fine but come in. We were waiting for you"

"Hello!" said Tom while following John into the house. He received a muffled response from Emalee.

"She is in the living room with little Isabel. Come"

Tom reached the living room and stopped on the door's threshold. He smiled as he saw Emalee, John's wife, cradling Isabel gently and singing her a lullaby. For a moment Tom's mind wandered back to the day of John and Emalee's marriage: their trepidation, excitement and fear. And now they had a daughter, a family.

"Good morning. You know that you can sit down"

"Good morning to both of you. And yes I know that I can sit down"

"Then do it, How are you?"

"Everything is all right, and you?" said Tom as he sat down on a chair near the table.

"I'm fine. Do you want to hold her?"

"Yes" he took Isabel carefully in his arms, paying attention to hold her in the right way and begun to cradle her, just as he did when his youngest brother was just a baby.

"Before everything else: Tom, do you want to be her godfather?"

"Me?" he was bewildered: he and the Clays had been pretty close but asking him to be the godfather and not one of their relatives came quite as a surprise.

"Of course you. Listen Tom we thought about it carefully and you are our closest friends, part of our family. Ems is an only child and my brother lives in America, it's been ages since we last heard from each other. You are going to be a more present person, and if things should go wrong she would already know you. So do you accept?"

"Of course I accept, if you are absolutely and completely sure about it"

"Of course we are. Now to more frivolous matters: how did the evening go?"

Tom sighed for exasperation and ignored the questions, giving all his attention to the baby he was holding in his arms.

"Tom?"asked John questioningly.

"It wasn't my kind of evening. But I had an interesting conversation"

"With a girl?" asked Emalee

"What makes you think it was a girl?"

"I was just guessing. But now you have to tell us everything"

"I might have met a girl" admitted Tom.

"Was she pretty? Tom your face... It's hilarious. Right, she was pretty"

"She was clever that's all" said Tom being all defensive.

"And pretty" stated John.

"She was political"

"And she was pretty" stated Emalee again, looking at Tom with questioning glaze.

"Right, fine, she was pretty! Are you happy now?"

Tom looked up to his friends and only then noticed that they were messing up with him, making fun of his reticence to talk about Sybil Crawley. And this made them even more interested and... No, they were not thinking that there was something between them was it? There wasn't anything, they had just met.

_Why? Why didn't I answer straight away?_

"Yes and now go on talking. No wait what was her name?"

"Sybil Crawley" admitted Tom.

"Sybil Crawley as the youngest daughter of the earl of Grantham. _That_ Sybil Crawley?"

"The very one. A certain Anthony Strallan introduced us"

"If it is really her than she isn't pretty, she is beautiful." said John

"I still can't believe it you and Sybil Crawley" said Emalee

"There is no me and Sybil Crawley"

"If you say so. What made your conversation with her so interesting"

"She is political"

"And?"

"She kind of proved my wrong. I mean she is different: she wants to work and is political and you would never say that she is the daughter of an earl especially not lord Grantham's"

"So you enchanted with your political opinions? And the thing was mutual? Oh Tom you..."

"No, not ever"

"There's no need to get angry or defensive. We were just joking now let's forget about this and tell us what happened apart from this _encounter_"

Tom was aware that it had all been a joke, and he wasn't really angry at John and Emalee's insinuation. It was just how his friends were, they often treated him like that and through the years he just got used to it. They were not really implying that something had indeed happened, more likely they just were messing around. Sometimes it looked as if John and Emalee's biggest target was to see him settle down and, knowing far to well that this was one of the last things in his mind at the moment, they often tried to persuade him of the contrary and whenever Tom talked to a girl, they kept on asking if he had eventually found his soul-mate which for most part of the times wasn't the case. Not that he didn't wish to have a family, sometimes he envied his friends for having one, and in the future he could see himself settled down, nor that he wished to be one of those eternal bachelors but he had other priorities. One of them was returning to Ireland one day and remain there. All of this, his life in Ripon, his job at 'The York Daily Report' were just something temporary and nothing, not even looking at his colleagues as his extended family could hide the desire to go back to his mother country one day.

"I'm not angry. But before I start my report I have one question for you John: how are you able to survive those things. I was tempted to elope after the first thirty minutes"

"I grew up participating to them, one just gets used to it. Especially if you have some friends in the guests, it gives you a chance to distract yourself. And Tom, I am glad you didn't elope otherwise there wouldn't have been the article and well... we all know how that would have ended."

"It wasn't a problem, but just for this once. Next time you will have to ask one of the others"

"Even if it meant seeing Sybil Crawley again?"

"Even if it meant seeing her again. I won't survive another evening like that, we are a team back at the headquarters so one of the others can experience the thrill of a posh party"

John raised an eyebrow, as if to question Tom about the words he just said. They didn't sound very convincing and weren't because if there was one thing that would have made every one feeling better was sending Tom to yet another party or ceremony.

"It won't happen, will it?"

"No, but if it makes you feel better there are no parties scheduled until summer. "

"Thank heaven for that. Back to the detailed report..." Tom begun to give a detailed description about the evening he had spent at the Mundhis including all the small details and giving a list of all the people who had participate. Sometimes a '_I know him'_ or '_How is he?_' came up and then Tom usually stopped to give - if he remembered who was who - the needed information. He wondered how it was possible that John got all the names right, but considering that it was his job, and that he knew part of those people well there was no surprise to it.

Suddenly Isabel woke up and started to cry and Tom handed her back to her parents, who started to calm her down.

"Before I forget: the others were asking when they could have passed by, and Declan said that you can take the time you need as long as you keep giving him the articles"

"They can pass when they want but perhaps it would be better if they make some time pass until things have adjusted a little bit. Maybe we could pass at the office. in any case it will be nice to see them all again, and of course introduce them to the new entry in the Clay family"

"They are all excited to meet her. We will be her extensive family, and I am sure that if ever the case, Declan would hire her immediately. Heavens it's late, I think I should go. One last thing, let me know when the christening is as soon as you settle the day"

"Of course. I will bring you to the door" said John.

Tom said goodbye to his friends and walked back to the newspaper, still happy about having seen his friends again.


	3. March 1914, Life at Downton

**March 1914, Life at Downton**

Sybil was in her room, some old newspapers opened in front of her. In her hand she held a pencil and in the other a blank piece of paper. She was looking for job advertisements that would have been suitable for Gwen, it wasn't the first time she was doing it and now she was getting better and quicker in her research: now she knew what she was looking for and it didn't take as much time as it did before.

She envied Gwen in some ways, and in others she was happy for her. Of course it was terrific that her friend - because even though Gwen was one of the maids she was also her confidant - wanted to become a secretary, shaping her own destiny, but Sybil was a little jealous of it and wanted to be able to do the same one day. Downstairs Gwen's dreams had been criticized but as soon as Sybil heard about them she put her mind on the task. Until now it didn't work out well, Gwen hadn't been chosen but she was sure that her friend would have made it.

Why not? She was suitable for those positions just like everybody else. That she was a maid didn't matter, it didn't prevent her being a good secretary. Gwen was a hard-worker and a bright girl and the last time Sybil checked those were required skills for being a secretary.

She was interrupted by a knock on the door, quickly Sybil put the newspapers under the blanket and grabbed the book on her bedside table, pretending to be deeply involved in the reading.

"Sybil? Is everything all right? I haven't seen you for the entire morning" Mary's voiced reached her.

"Of course it is. You can come in and check it yourself"

Mary entered the room and sat down on Sybil's bed, she adjusted the blankets around her smoothed all the wrinkles.

"I asked papa to buy 'The York Daily Report' and you were right your name is not mentioned"

"I told you so, but you didn't listen"

"Just because you are tight this once doesn't make it better. And it still is wrong that you talked with him for an entire evening"

"Mary..."

"No listen to me. I didn't tell papa anything about it, I didn't tell him why I needed 'The York Daily Report' and I will continue to stay silent if you promise me that in future you will be more careful about certain things"

Sybil sighed, looked at her sister and rolled her eyes. Typical of Mary making this sort of threats, it wasn't her sister's problem how she behaved, and with whom she talked. Apart that talking to someone couldn't even be considered as scandalous after all she didn't stop him in the street: she had been introduced to Tom Branson by Sir Anthony Strallan, who was in every way respectable and good placed in society, and he had been invited by the Mundhis themselves even if he just had to make publicity for them. Besides a conversation didn't imply anything, for heaven sake they were not planning to elope! They talked about politics that's all, and if more people were interested and ready to listen to her she would have done so with them too. It wasn't her fault that Tom Branson had been the first person to accept her for what she was and to encourage her to speak about her thoughts.

"Sybil! Are you listening to me?"

"I am"

"Then please answer me: do you promise to behave better the next time?"

"I will. But answer me this: what do you want from me? My manners were perfect, and if you are talking about my interesting conversation there was nothing wrong in it either. We just talked about life not about something that shouldn't have been said"

"But it's not about the conversation itself, it's about with whom and for how long you talked"

"Would you have scolded me the same way if I had talked with somebody else? For example The Mundhi's eldest son? Or is it just because I talked to Tom Branson?"

"Sybil, the matter is: he is a journalist, and you did just met him. And yes I would have scolded you anyway if you talked to the Mundhi's eldest son for the entire evening. People will talk"

"And let them talk, whatever it is about it's something without any base. I don't care about other people's opinion and before they open their mouth they should know the basic facts"

"But that's not what people do, it doesn't work like that so know this: you have to behave in order not to bring gossips up. Never do stupid things again"

"I don't deserve this preaching Mary, but if it makes you feel better I will be more careful next time"

"Fine. Was it that difficult?"

Why did Mary always act like this? why asking her certain questions? And always making it look like it was her fault? It was not. Never, never in her entire life did she find herself more inappropriate for her life at Downton. Downton was like a golden cage for her, a place where she couldn't be herself however hard she tried and the fact that her sister and her parents had to remind her of it was always getting on her nerves. It was as if they didn't see her for what she truly was, as if they were blind to her true nature. Closing an eye worked for them but not for her. She couldn't just sit there, forgetting all her dreams and ideas: it didn't work like this. And even if it did she would have never forgotten who she really was.

"No."

"Excellent" said Mary before leaving the room again.

Sybil groaned, grabbed her diary from the nightstand drawer, pushed the advertisements in it and followed Mary out of the room. Her day had been spoiled for the moment, she needed some time for herself, thinking about how she felt about the entire situation and about her life. There was a place in the gardens of Downton, the place she liked most of all the house: it was an old wooden bench under an oak. It was near the house but remained isolated anyway, it seemed out of the world and Sybil often went there whenever there was something that bothered her. She usually sat down on the bench, her diary opened in front of her and then she just let her thoughts come out, sometimes she wished to have a friend, someone to talk to who could give her a piece of advice but she hadn't one. She had friends but not at Downton. No, at Downton there was Gwen but she wasn't always there and Sybil feared that if they did find out that Gwen was her friend it wouldn't have ended well. Of course Mary was in a friendly relationship with Anna, and her mother with Mrs. O'Brien but between her and Gwen it was different. Sybil considered Gwen her best friend, someone she could have talked to openly and be her true self.

The two girls got closer ever since Sybil found that Gwen wanted to stop being a maid and become a secretary. Since then they started to talk more than usual and, much to their surprise they discovered that they shared a lot of ideas and helping Gwen in finding a new job had been one of the most exciting things that ever happened to Sybil, it was a way to keep herself busy and she was happy to help her friends in her research. Sybil had much more free time than Gwen and she was full of a new resolution that kept her going even if until now Gwen had always been refused. Sybil made herself a promise: she would have never given up until Gwen's dream would have become true.

Sybil walked towards the bench, happy to see that no one else was occupying her bench. She sat down taking the clippings of newspaper she made earlier and her diary. She worked for some time on looking for a job for Gwen, she found three suitable positions as secretary she folded the pieces of paper and putted them in her diary. She would have shown them Gwen that evening then she could have decided if she wanted to write a letter of application to the different places. She was sure that if she kept looking she would have found the right position for Gwen and what ever happened she would have never given up.

_ March 1914_

_And here I am, again sitting on my favorite bench and writing down my thoughts. It has been a while since the last time but I've been busy. No wait, my life is never busy I just find silly pastimes to arrive at the end of the day so that I can convince myself that I did something useful. My life is quite a nuisance: it is empty and boring. I want to keep myself busy but I'm running out of ideas. The only thing that keeps me going is helping Gwen to find a job, she will find one and she will better he conditions. Her dreams will come true and she will give me hope. Hope that one day the same thing could happen to me, that I could actually find a job. Papa and mama would never approve of it but who cares? I might sound harsh but things are changing and if they do maybe one day I can be something more than just a piece of tapestry. It would be wonderful! I'm not sure what my vocation is but I will find out and I am sure that I will find it. _

_Sometimes Gwen is on the edge of giving up though, and I can imagine the pain and the feeling of not being good enough as you receive one refusal letter after the other. I envy Gwen and what she is doing is terrific, so - as much as I can - I will try to help her and encourage her. My parents probably wouldn't think it's the right thing to do, but even if we belong to two complete different social circles Gwen is my best friend. She is the person who knows me best in the world and there is no one else with whom I open up as much as I do with her. is it wrong? I couldn't say. It seems that I am completely incapable of distinguishing between what is right and wrong to do at least that's what Mary told me not so many time ago. Twice actually, in three days. Which is actually quite a lot. The problem is that I don't think about what is acceptable before I do something and right, for basic things I may do so but when it comes down to help or talk to people I don't do it. Gwen isn't a maid, that's her job but she is a person and you can talk with a person, can't you?_

_Talking about Mary's remarks about me behaving in an inappropriate way... I've been to the Mundhis dinner party two days ago and I made quite an interesting encounter (of which Mary disapproved of course, and so would my parents if they would know about it. but they won't because Mary promised not to tell anyone about what happened - as if something happened - I'm laughing right now). _

_I met Tom Branson, a political (he is a socialist) journalist for 'The York Daily Report', an Irish political journalist. Now, I am telling that he is Irish mainly because that's part of the thing that probably Mary couldn't stand about him (the other one is him being part of the working class). At first sight that is, since she didn't talk to him at all except a quick and edgy remark after I introduced them._

_Back to Tom Branson: Sir Anthony Strallan introduced us, I talked to you about Sir Anthony, didn't I? Our 'neighbor' whom my parents thought to be a suitable match for Mary (as if that could ever happen), but he seems rather interested in Edith and I dare say that Edith likes him back. Well Mary soon finished into oblivion and since then Edith is at the center of things, I'm happy for her because she deserves it. I know that Edith is the one who often gets ignored, and her way of behaving all edgy and naughty leads people off. But it's an act and nothing more, I know my sister and she wasn't always like this. Things happened and she changed... But now I am ranting again, so I will talk about Tom Branson._

_He made my evening, literally he save the day and I guess he was just as bored as I was. For the entire dinner everyone talked about unimportant matters like frocks and the past season, at least with me. And the only two times I tried to change subject of conversation I was given a nudge by Mary or I was just ignored. Why can't I discuss politics? Why do I have to sit there and silence my opinions and not share them with the world? _

_And guess what? That's what I did! And I would have never imagined how good it felt! Talking to someone interested, someone who did not care if it was a woman who told such thing. As you could have imagined my interlocutor was Tom Branson. It has been such an interesting discussion that lasted more than an hour: we shared ideas, and opinions and on many matters they are the same. I told him about my desire to get a job, I wasn't trying to be lamentable or officious nor, in fact, was I trying to tell my own business to the four winds. But he was surprised that an Earl's daughter could be like this: interested in politics and anxious to give a sense to her life. I think he was quite astonished, at least he looked like it!_

_And this is how my evening got better, I should thank Sir Anthony for the introductions as soon as I have the opportunity which I am sure will be soon. I could always ask Edith without giving her the details about it. We will see..._

_You are probably wondering about one thing, or rather I want to put it down into words. Yes, Tom Branson is an attractive young man (this is the part where I blush beet red), or as Gwen said strikingly handsome as I described him to her. Do you think it's wrong for me to have noticed? Not that I couldn't notice, I mean I had a long conversation with him and I looked at him. It was inevitable and I should have been blind not to notice. Anyway Tom Branson is a head taller than me, he has blond hair combed to the side and beautiful blue eyes with just a hint of grey and that's it. But apart from his physical aspect (which as I just said wasn't a bad view) he really is a great person._

_You know what? The more I go out, the more I stay here I realize that the life at Downton is oh-so-different from the life I want to live. It's suffocating and I feel like I can't be the real me: I'm always stopped and talked off. My dreams are nothing more than a juvenile madness for my parents who, by the way, are blind to the fact that I am political and have opinions. Wouldn't it be better if they recognized those things? It would be easier for sure. Imagine I shouldn't steal papa's old newspapers and hide them under the bed (Gwen and Anna once found them but didn't say anything) and talking of newspapers I want to start to read 'The York Daily Report', I read a copy today (due to a bet I made with Mary) and I really like it. I just have to find a way but maybe if I ask my parents nicely and make some compromises I will win at least this battle. Mama won't say no if I manage to make her see reason, even though I am already trying to convincing her to let me go to see the by-elections in May (fingers crossed)._

_Can you imagine it? Me at a by-election? I can't and it really seems unreal but there is this little possibility that I may be able to go and I am sure that I will manage to convince mama, if I do it without asking my father and without granny finding out of it. You know what granny said about my political interests? That it's not appropriate, that I should wait to be married and then accept my husband's opinions. Nonsense! I will never do such a thing. I have a brain and I will use it._

"Sybil? What are you doing?"

Sybil looked up from the diary, shutting it close and holding it tight against her chest as if to show that it was private property. Her sister, Edith, was standing right in front of her with a puzzled look on her face.

"Nothing" she answered a little too fast and with a tone of voice that seemed to be on the defensive.

"It doesn't matter, Can I?" said Edith pointing at the free space on the bench.

Sybil nodded and moved to one side.

"So, why are you here?"

"I need your help. I might be asking much because in the last time I wasn't exactly the kindest person on earth, and I've treated a lot of people in a bad way especially Mary. I'm not even sure I can say that I am sorry for what I have done"

"Edith..."

"No, I know what you are going to say. That me and Mary have to settle all the pettiness once and for ever but it's not that easy and I'm not sure we can do it, there have been so many things that it all seems impossible"

It had been years since Edith and Mary lived with a war going on between them, and it never stopped. Remarks at dinner or in the living room, threatening glances and accusation were daily routine and sometimes it was all too much for Sybil to bear. She tried to bring peace between her sisters, she tried to make them act nicely with each other but it didn't always work and a part of her didn't want to spent the rest of her life (at least the one she would have lived at Downton) being an ambassador of peace between Mary and Edith.

At the same time Sybil loved both her sisters no matter what, and she managed to look past the act. Because that's what it all was: an act.

"Of course I will help you" she said with a smile "What's all this about?"

"Sir Anthony Strallan, just passed by and he invited me to a concert, followed by a dinner party"

"And you need my help for what?"

"Find something to wear. I just need some advice on what fits best"

"You really like him, do you?"

"I do now, back when we first met I wasn't so sure. I never imagined that I could actually like Sir Anthony but I do now, I like his company and he is a good man. I have fun when I'm with him, more fun than I could actually have imagined"

"Then let's go and find something that will make you look even more lovely in his eyes, which will be difficult since he already thinks you're the loveliest person in the world"

Edith blushed and looked down, she still didn't know how to accept compliments. It was weird that they were actually for her, usually she was the one who got away unnoticed.

Sybil followed her sister into her room and sat down on the bed as Edith showed her the dresses she thought as a possibility for the oncoming evening. In the end after a couple of animated discussions Sybil chose a red dress with black embroidery, which was awarded as _the_ dress Edith would have worn.

_This is another thing I don't want my life to be: a series of dress fittings for special occasions._

She enjoyed spending time with Edith and she was glad that she could have helped her out but it once every now and then and only for other people. If she was the one who had to look for a dress she bored herself to death, even now it was more about the time spent with Edith than looking at frocks.

"Sybil?"

"Yes"

"Don't forget your notebook" said Edith as she handed it to her sister. She paused a moment and then added "Thank you, for everything" and with everything she didn't mean the help but mainly the kindness her sister was showing to her.

"You are welcome. you know where to find me if you need me" said Sybil referring to her room.

_Not right away, first I have to look for Gwen and quickly hand her the advertisements.  
_

But Edith didn't know about her new occupation and Sybil wasn't sure how she would have reacted if she knew, so she kept silent about the part of her plans involving Gwen and let Edith think that she was just referring to her room.


	4. May 1914, The Day of the Liberal Rally

_A/N: This chapter is a birthday present for the amazing **Zip Goes A Million.**_

_Also I'm not really satisfied with how this chapter turned out to be, but I have rewritten in several times and this was the best version that came out of it. And a special thanks to **Odestalovebaby **who gave me a piece of advice about the plot line of this chapter._

_Thus said: enjoy and feel free to tell me what you thought about it._

* * *

**May 1914, The Day of the Liberal Rally**

Sybil had never felt like this in her entire life or, if she did, she couldn't remember. She could hardly hold back her excitement for the upcoming afternoon, she was thrilled and hardly managed to sit upright and calmly in the drawing-room while she was waiting for Pratt - the family's chauffeur - to drive by, or rather she was waiting for the clock to strike two in order to finally go.

A war was going on inside her, at least it felt like that: as hard as she was trying, she couldn't just stop her excitement and it took a lot of effort not to grin foolishly for the entire morning. If she showed too much happiness no doubt her father would have noticed or if not him someone else and this would have lead to question about the reason she couldn't stop smiling. She didn't want to have this questions being made to her, it would only have led to her father forbidding her to go where she was heading.

Where was she heading? The political rally back in Ripon.

She, Sybil Crawley, was going to a political rally.

_She at a political rally_: the thought of it seemed still so unreal that she feared that she would have woken up any minute now only to find herself in the usual world. A world were all her interests and suggestions were quickly diminished. But not this time.

This time she actually had the permission to go. For once she had not been silenced, nor had her request been brushed off as a mare madness and silly way to pass her time. She asked her mother gently and she said yes after all if her daughter would have been careful what could have happened? Nothing. And Sybil wasn't stupid, if there would have been danger she would have left. Of course her mother's recommendation included staying safe and leaving soon, recommendations of which Sybil wanted to follow only the first. No way she was going to leave soon, not until everyone had spoken out that was.

She looked at the clock again, fifteen minutes and then Pratt would have taken her to Ripon.

Did time always pass this slowly?

No, There had been other times when she had had this feeling. Long and boring dinners for example when all she could think about was 'when will this end?' but also in the days before Christmas and birthdays. How silly she had been! What were those things compared to this? She was tasting freedom. For once she received the permission to do something she was interested in, but was it really freedom? It felt like it. Maybe if her father knew about the plan it would have felt more complete but then again if he knew she would have been forced to stay at home so it was definitely better this way. Half a victory was already something.

"Sybil, dear, Pratt is waiting outside. Remember to pay attention, cousin Isobel will be looking out for you"

"Thank you mama. Thank you for giving me the permission to go"

"You are welcome, just pay attention and when you are finished come straight back home. Now go before you're late"

Her mother smiled to her and nodded towards the direction. Sybil put on her hat and walked towards the car.

As Tom started to make his way to the yard where the rally was held he kept on hoping that just for once there wouldn't have been dreadful twists of events. The idea that his afternoon would have ended with a fight, even if he didn't take part of it, wasn't appealing at the least. It wouldn't have been the first time that things started to degenerate at a political rally and surely, if it happened, it wouldn't have been the last time nor the first actually. Somehow it seemed that people often forgot manners at some kind of events, even more than manners they forgot what sanity meant and as a result things often degenerated quickly. One person who said the wrong thing was enough to light the fuse of a bomb ready to explode, one wrong word - whether it was said on purpose or not - and everyone run mad.

He wasn't lying to himself nor, if asked, would he have denied that when he had been younger there had been times he got involved in fights due to divergent political opinions. He was never in the one who started it but he took part of them. He had been and still was pretty head heated about his political believes but now he was less impulsive, he tried to sort things out with calm instead of just jumping in to the fray. He did so ever since things turned quite bad when he was younger about seven-eight years ago he couldn't remember. What he did remember was his parents concerned looks and the excessive worries that followed which all lead to a promise that he would have tried to stay out of street fights for the rest of his days due him leaving the house and never coming back.

Thinking about it now, all the things his parents had told him in the time of his recovery seemed a little harsh but they helped the cause. Being someone who knew how it felt - the thrill of the moment, the adrenaline and of course the feeling that it was a right to defend his ideas - he could understand why riots were at the order of the day but a part of him knew that it wasn't all about interests, recklessness and believes. Truth was a lot of people just wanted an excuse to pick a fight.

_Please, just for once. _He found himself thinking along with _Keep dreaming Tom. Keep dreaming._

But it wasn't all about the rally, it would have been worse at the counting of the votes.

_It will be worse at the counting of the votes. Take a normal fight and multiply it for ten._

No way the counting would have gone as they should be, if he had little hope for the rally he had absolutely none for the event that would have taken place in the following week. If it wasn't for the article and a personal interest he would have thought about staying at home.

_So many people_ was the first thought that came to Sybil's mind as she entered the yard where the rally was kept. People of different ages all stood in front of what looked like a balcony that hosted the different party representatives and from which they would have made their speeches, it was something new for her something completely different from all the things she had previously seen in her life. It was new and exciting and she would have kept the memory of it forever. She didn't really know what to expect at an event like this one but until now, even if she had been there for two minutes straight she liked it and looked forward for what was going to happen next.

She looked herself around, trying to see if cousin Isobel, who had the task to look after her, had already arrived. But she didn't see her in all that sea of people so Sybil decided to make her way up to the front in order to find a place where she could have heard and saw better. As soon as she would have arrived, Isobel would have looked for her and not the other way round after all it wouldn't have changed a thing whether it was her looking for her cousin or the other way round. She would have stayed there and wouldn't have left for a long time, or so she hoped, giving her cousin the chance to find her.

The liberal part was the first to speak, the representative of the party Michael Callow - a middle-aged man, with a hoarse and low voice - lent himself towards the mass of people and started his speech, shouting his speech, more likely, to let everyone hear what he had to say.

"Last June saw Emily Davidson crushed to death beneath the hooves of the king's horse! Will the summer of 1914 prove as fatal for the hopes of woman? It cannot! This historic by-election can be the first step of the journey to women's equality!"

The first murmurs raised up followed in a matter of seconds by whistles and shouts of protestation. A woman beside Sybil screamed out loud to reply to Mr. Callow.

"If you're so keen on women's rights, let a woman speak!"

A round of applause, especially from the woman in the yard, and someone screaming "But why stop there? Let's get the dogs up and listen to them bark!".

At this exclamation people started to become restless: the first accusations, the first insults and protestations were said and the people in the crowd begun to push those who were standing near them so that even Sybil nearly lost her balance. If her parents could see her now, if they could see this: they would die for shock but Sybil didn't care about it at all. She was enjoying herself despite the uprising turmoil and despite the inability to maintain her balance, this was what she had come for this was the moment she had waited so long for. Just for once she wasn't in a golden cage and she didn't have to worry about what her parents would have said, they weren't there. And despite her reasonable side told her that perhaps it would have been better for her to go she wouldn't have, not until everything was over.

Tom nearly tripped to the side, and in the moment he did two things happened. He realized that there was no way that this meeting would have ended calmly and the other was that he saw her. He saw the girl about whom he had thought a lot in the last couple of months. A girl he had desperately wanted to see again.

Sybil Crawly.

Sybil Crawley was there, her attention caught entirely by the man talking.

"Women! Women are thrown out of jail...!" continued Michael Callow uncaring of the agitation that was slowly threatening to get out of control.

Sybil looked herself around, searching again for cousin Isobel but instead of finding her she saw Tom Branson. She didn't care at the moment if it was inappropriate of her going to him and say hello, after all they had been introduced before and it wasn't the first time that they saw each other. Despite this, she had longed to see him again and talk some more but most of all she wanted to thank him for having listened to her opinions without judgments or diminishing.

She made herself a way through the crowed and reached him.

"Mr. Branson!"

"Lady Sybil" said Tom with a smile "how do you do?"

"All right, thank you. Isn't it exciting?" she asked him.

Then she realized: if he was here what were the chances that he was working again?

"Are you writing an article about the upcoming by-elections?"

"I do Milady. Lady Sybil that is... I'm sorry"

"Only to be dragged back inside" continued the candidate.

Things were getting worse, Tom knew that if he didn't leave now, if Sybil didn't leave now they would have probably been dragged in something which would have been better not to be dragged in. If earlier the crowd was only slightly pushing on the sides now it was something much more violent and with more frequency than before. Insults were beginning to get shouted, there had been a few idiots, and not long now before heavier insults would have started to be said. He had been to enough of this meetings to know what was coming next and certainly it wasn't a calmer situation.

"Sybil!" someone said behind them.

"Cousin Isobel, I was waiting for you"

"I've been looking for you, I'm afraid I arrived a little late and it was a little difficult to spot you in the crowd"

Another shove and a couple of insults.

Isobel looked at Sybil, she feared that Sybil would have preferred doing of her own mind but this time she had to listen to her, no matter the costs. Her niece was strong-minded and she was happy that for once she had had the chance to take part in something she loved but she was under her responsibility and nothing had to happen.

"Sybil, I think it's time for you to go" she said, her voice sound a little harsh.

Sybil sighed for disappointment "Not yet! I've been here only for half an hour -ish. I'm not leaving now!"

And here they were: with Sybil refusing to leave and Isobel trying to convince her. Somehow Sybil's idea of the entire thing was idealized, she never witnessed an event like this and certainly she would have never imagined that things might have degenerated. She would have never left earlier by her own decision.

"I think so and I am glad you have come but I'll be happier if you leave _now_" repeated Isobel.

"You agree with them?" asked Sybil.

"I do, but I don't want anything to happen to you. You are under my responsibility, please Sybil do it as a favor"

Tom looked first at Sybil and then at her cousin, the conversation seemed to be going nowhere. Isobel Crawley than looked at him as if to plead for his help.

"She is right. Better safe than sorry, trust me this sort of things can end in the wrong way most of the time"

"Fine"

Tom took Sybil by her waist and followed Isobel Crawley out of the yard, making a way through the angry and agitated crowd.

They stopped outside and for a moment Tom lingered before removing his arm from Sybil's waist. The contact even if brief and necessary to escort her outside, seemed the most natural thing in the world.

_You are forgetting your place Tom! And You have seen her twice, what are you thinking of?_ he thought.

Sybil looked up at him still smiling.

"What did you mean when you said this end in the wrong way?"

"You see Lady Sybil sometimes. No, nearly always these rallies become nothing more than just a place to pick up a fight. Divergence of ideas are partly what's behind it, truth is it's an excuse like the other"

"But why would people do that? It doesn't make any sense!"

"It doesn't have to make sense after all there's no real reason behind it"

Tom and Sybil started a deep conversation about it, followed by a passionate exchange of opinions about politics which as usual included women's rights, freedom for Ireland and inevitable changes that were not seen by the ministers.

Isobel Crawley watched the scene quite amused and surprised, there was something about Sybil, a side she had never seen before, a vivacity and passion that Sybil had never showed at home. Somehow it was like Sybil was a new creature, raised from all the bounding and impediments of her parents she showed to be more than a bright person, everything but narrow-minded and with a set of ideas completely in step with the time. She was so different from her family, first of all from her father. It was an amazing transformation: Sybil had always held back from making any kind of commentary and despite some small sentences at dinner or so, Isobel would have never thought it as a real passion and yet she didn't have any doubt whatsoever that it wasn't just a phase she was concerned! If only Lord Grantham could have seen it too. If only her parents encouraged Sybil to talk like the man near her - whom presumably was an acquaintance was doing. Talking of which she realized that she hadn't been introduced yet.

"Sybil, you should introduce me to your friend. I'm Isobel Crawley" said Isobel as she stretched her hand out, interrupting Sybil's conversation.

"Tom Branson"

"I think I read some of your articles, my son Matthew has sometimes read what was it..."

"The York Daily Report" exclaimed Sybil with what was perhaps a little too much enthusiasm "I've begun to read it, it's been a month now. I don't do it regularly but I do"

"I should tell Declan, he would be honored. Declan Smith, that is, is the one who should be taking the merits for the paper he founded it" admitted Tom.

"I think my sister Edith met Declan once, he is the one who used his inheritance to found the journal, isn't he?"

"He is the very one"

"Tell him he is doing a such a terrific job, you all are doing such a terrific job"

"I will pass the compliment, no doubt they will all be happy about it"

Suddenly Sybil remembered that not a long time ago there had been an announcement on their newspaper that they were looking for a new secretary, but after that day she hadn't had the chance to read 'The York Daily Report' again and she didn't know if in the meantime they had found someone for the vacant place. When she read about it, she had thought about Gwen but then she completely forgot to tell her friend about it.

"I was wondering: are you still looking for a secretary?" she asked.

"Yes, we are"

Sybil couldn't believe it, it came quite as a lucky thing. She could have told Gwen that same evening and make her apply for the job. It would have been a lot easier to make a journey to York in a day rather than any other places around. Gwen could have used her free day and in case Sybil wouldn't have been able to sneak out of the house and go with her. And there was no need to take the governess cart they could have gone with the omnibus, they just had to be careful. But even the omnibus was better that the cart, last time they had to make the entire journey back from Malton on foot because the horse's iron fell off.

"You are really still looking for a secretary?" she asked again to be sure she actually heard right the first time and didn't make it up in her mind.

"Yes" confirmed Tom.

"And you still haven't found anyone?"

_Why can't I just stop making the same question over and over again? I probably look like the stupidest person on the world right now. Who knows what he is thinking of me! _

"Exactly"

"I'm sorry, it is such good news. Wait! It came out wrong: I'm sorry that you don't have a secretary but it's great news because you see a friend of mine was looking for a position and she still hasn't found one"

Perhaps this was Gwen's chance! And who knows, maybe the position would have become hers. Of one thing Sybil was sure: the people her friend would have worked with would have been more than respectable (at least from what she knew) and the egoistic part of her was happy that Gwen would have stayed close to Downton, which meant that perhaps there was a chance that they would have stayed in touch and that maybe they could have seen each other sometimes. At least she hoped so.

"Let her send us her credentials and we will give her an appointment."

Tom wasn't sure what Sybil meant by 'a friend of mine', regarding to social position. If someone didn't know her he might have thought that she was talking of some girl of her same social position but it was Sybil Crawly who was talking so he couldn't be sure. Not that social position mattered at all, they were looking for someone qualified to do the job. Someone willingly to work hard, a skill that wasn't really something all the girls that passed by Declan's office had.

"You would really give her a chance? Without caring about nothing but her skills and training?"

"We would, why?"

"Nothing. I will tell her as I get back"

"Then I am sure that Declan shall receive her any day soon"

"Heavens! Is this the hour?" asked Sybil after listening to the church clock strike the hour "I promised mama to go straight back home and I hopefully arrive before papa does. So he won't ask questions it's part of the plan. It's been a pleasure to meet you again Mr. Branson"

"The thing is mutual" replied Tom with a smile "Lady Sybil, Mrs. Crawley" he greeted before walking away.

Sybil and Isobel made their way to the end of the street where Pratt had parked.

"So tell me, where did you and Branson meet?"

"At the Mundhi's dinner in March. Sir Anthony Strallan introduced us, he is a wonderful person, he listened to me talking about politics and never diminished my opinions"

"Why should he?"

"I don't know, but he wouldn't be the first one would he?" replied Sybil thinking about her family.

"Touché"

"Do you think _mama _will let me go to the counting of the votes? I hope so, I wouldn't want to miss it. Not for the world"

"Sybil don't you think that it may be wiser to stay at home? You have seen how this things go, and Mr. Branson told you himself how it ends"

"But it's something I've been waiting for! And if papa doesn't know about it and I promise mama to be safe, just like today surely no harm can be done. I will go with our without their permission!"


	5. May 1914, The Counting of The Votes

_A/N: So here it is the chapter of the accident in Ripon during the by-elections, I hope you will like it. The dialogue of the announcer is taken by episode six of Downton Abbey directly._

_As usual I'm sorry for eventual mistakes and enjoy._

* * *

**May 1914, The Counting of The Votes and The Accident That Follows**

Tom looked himself around and then looked at Sybil standing right next beside him. They had met again and in all honesty, Tom would have never imagined to find her at the vote counting. There was no doubt of her being interested in what was happening, but he could hardly believe that her family did approve of her being there. But since she received approval the first time perhaps it was the same now. Approvals or not, the most important matter of the whole situation was Sybil's safety: last time they went out of the yard just in time, and there was Mrs. Crawley encouraging Sybil to leave, this time he hoped that Sybil might have left even earlier than necessary.

_Oh God, please let that nothing happens._

Tom was glad that he and Sybil had met again, it was always a pleasure to talk to her but deep down he would have preferred if she stood out of it. Of course it showed a great passion on her side, and her interest in politics and social right was admirable - even something to be proud of - but sometimes it was better to stay safe.

And safe wasn't an adjective someone would have used to describe the scene of the counting of the vote. Even before they had started to announce the number of votes, the crowd was already in turmoil and the more time passed the more the turmoil transformed itself in something drastically close to a riot.

"The Honorable Joseph Gerald Antsy for the Conservative and Unionist Party: 6363 votes" was yelled from one of the announcers, who was standing on the balcony.

But his voice got lost in the general noise. The crowd wasn't listening to what the man was saying, nor were people really interested in it: they were too busy shouting opinions, requests and insults.

It was a pity that they announced the parties following an order based on the number of votes they had received, because this way the liberal party was likely to be the last one. If they had announced it at the beginning - Tom was sure - he and Sybil would have been out of this yard already.

"Martin James Dillon for the socialist party: 2741 votes"

Someone nudged Tom in the side before trying to push him forward. The situation wasn't ideal, it wasn't ideal at all and if both him and Sybil didn't get out of there in time, they would have found themselves into something which was better to stay out from.

"Lady Sybil, I think you should leave. Call it a day" he tried again.

Sybil looked at Tom raising her eyebrow. She most certainly wouldn't have left already! Why should she go before she had even seen everything? It wasn't risky, was it? She thought not and besides, she was too excited to care. Yes, last time Branson had explained to her the violence that often broke out at political rallies but this was different, it was only the counting of the vote. There was nothing to disagree about, was there?

"This is the moment I've come for! I'm most certainly not going to leave _now_!" she answered with steady voice as if to make absolutely clear that she wouldn't have moved from her spot from the time that would have followed.

"Trevor Andrew Morgan, the Liberal party..." the announcer was continuing in vain to let his voice be louder than the one of the people. But at that point it had become quite clear that there was nothing to be done: his voice was like a whisper and it was barely audible in the front lines, let alone in the back.

He wouldn't have given up the chances of taking Lady Sybil out of the yard. There wasn't anyone looking after her this time, and therefore there was no one that could have helped him making her see reason. Somehow he imagined that Sybil thought the arguments to leave a little exaggerate, but little she knew about the world and about people. It wasn't mean as an insult, he was just stating the facts and if they both didn't leave and something happened to her he wasn't sure that there wouldn't have been any repercussions on him: after all her father was Lord Grantham. but apart from the repercussions he did want Sybil to be safe, he couldn't imagine something happening to her.

"They are people who think that there's something to fight for, and I agree with them. And so do you, I know"

How could he explain her the difference between fighting for ideals, which didn't necessary involve violence, and fighting just for the thrill of it? It was impossible to explain, everything that might have happened here could have been justified by blaming political interests. All the discontents could have been blamed for it, and maybe he would have done so too if this was one of the first time he assisted to such an event.

As for what Sybil said: yes, he thought that some ideas were worth fighting for and so he did but there was a difference in doing it peacefully and by starting a fight.

A difference Sybil didn't catch. Tom had told her about the riots and yet she couldn't believe it. Why did people recur to violence? Did they really recur to violence and the days ended with injured people? Wasn't it a little exaggerate? Not that she was calling Tom a liar, never, but it seemed so unreal to her and since he told her only after cousin Isobel had asked her to leave it looked quite made up.

"5894 votes. I therefore announce that the Honorable Joseph Gerald Antsy has been elected as..." his voice lost in the turmoil once more.

Whereas the people inside the yard were still able to have a small amount of control, people on the outside went wild. Seriously, wild: they started to break windows, throw stones around and break stools of the pub which was on the other side of the road.

More people joined the protest, people who hadn't been there since the beginning but where just attracted by the general situation and this was how chaos exploded.

This was the scenery in front of Matthew Crawley's eyes as he exited his office. He was surprised to hear and see it, and for a moment he was bewildered since he had forgotten that it was the day of the counting of the votes. Matthew's office was placed near the second entrance to the yard, and as he closed the door his first thought had been to get away as soon as possible. then he glanced into the yard and changed his mind: it seemed as if he had just saw Sybil and he wanted to be sure of it. He wasn't sure if it was really her but, given the current set of events, he had to check and if it was really his cousin he had to convince her to leave. Of course it was honorable from her to go and want to take part at such things, and it was remarkable from her to support women's rights but it was better for her not to be involved in situation like this. Did she even have permission to be there? Knowing Robert and Cora it seemed rather unlikely, and Mary didn't mention a thing. However it was, he had to take her back to Downton before the inevitable happened.

He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to avoid the flying stones.

"I want to stop them from smiling!" someone shouted "Those filthy conservatives!"

"Sybil! What are you doing here?" he yelled in order to let his voice be higher than the chorus of people.

"I couldn't have missed it!"

"Of course you could. Now come"

Matthew took Sybil's hand and made their way out of the yard. Only a couple of meters till the exit it happened: one of the rioters placed himself in front of Tom and blocked his way, impeding also the passage of Matthew and Sybil. He looked at Tom angrily, ready to insult him: there was a spark in his eyes, a spark Tom knew far too well. It was the spark of a man ready to attack.

"Listen, I am on your side!" Tom shouted "Let us pass, you have to believe me"

The man laughed in his face and shoved him to the side, making his way towards Matthew and towards Sybil. He looked Matthew, who gently pushed Sybil to the side, in the eyes defiantly.

"Is something bothering you, your highness?" he asked mockingly.

"Yes, you" answered Matthew plainly.

What happened next was in a rush, Sybil didn't even manage to give a sense to it until she saw the man grabbing Matthew's coat with one hand and with the other try to knock him down.

Matthew avoided it by stepping back and grabbing him before starting to hit him back.

_What have I done? What have I done?_

They had told her that she shouldn't have been there. They told her how this sort of things ended and all she had thought about was that it was an exaggerate version of reality. Couldn't she have been any more foolish? Now they were all in trouble because of her! Sybil begun to feel the guilt rising inside her, hadn't Branson told her to leave right before they had announced the number of votes the liberal party had received? Why didn't she just listen to him? If they had leaved now Matthew nor Branson would be under attack.

Without thinking about it, Sybil throw herself towards Matthew's attacker and tried to divide them.

"Stop it! Please stop!" she screamed on the top of her lungs.

But what was Sybil compared to the men? Nothing but a wren.

In the same time she said those words Matthew hit his aggressor, who stumbled backwards hitting Sybil in the face making her loose balance too. Then for a moment time seemed to freeze before Sybil fell down, hitting her temple on the edge of a table.

Her body lied there, motionless on the dirty pebbles on the ground.

At the sight of Sybil Tom's heart skipped a beat. The world seemed to crush down on his shoulders and for a second everything else but him and Sybil seemed to have disappeared.

It happened. What he tried so hard to prevent - just as Sybil's relatives did - happened at last.

"Oh God no. Please don't..." he murmured.

"Sybil!" screamed Matthew.

Both of them run towards Sybil and knelt beside her. Matthew passed his hand on the temple that hit the edge of the table only to remove it covered in blood. The two men looked at each other for a second then Tom whispered "I'll take her" before taking Sybil's body in his arms.

He followed Matthew towards the Crawley's car and got in with Matthew, placing Sybil on one set of seats.

They decided to bring Sybil to Crawley house before taking her back to Downton. It was certainly a wise idea, Lord and Lady Grantham would have gone mad either way but with the help of Isobel, Sybil would have had time to get at least a little better. From what they could tell, the wound wasn't anything profound but since the impact with the table had been rather violent - and since she then landed on the ground - it was better be sure of it.

Matthew couldn't imagine Sybil's parents reaction when they would have found out what happened, unfortunately sneaking into Downton wasn't possible not in those conditions and not immediately. Sybil should have regained consciousness before going back home, this way the whole accident could have been seen as a little less scarier.

"I'm Matthew Crawley, by the way"

"Tom Branson. Will she be fine?" asked Tom, his voice full of worry.

If something happened to Lady Sybil, something worse than just a scratch, he could have never forgiven himself. He should have tried harder to persuade her and leave that place. He should have tried to convince her to leave just after they met. He should have tried to keep her safe.

"I think so, my mother will be able to tell us more. Mr. Branson, I don't know how you and Sybil got to know each other but I can tell this: I'm glad you were there"

"But I didn't protect her. I should have made her leave"

"Mr. Branson my cousin is strong-minded and she would have never followed your advice. My mother told me how it went last time"

"Aye, but I feel responsible no less"

"I do wonder if her parents knew about this, it will be worse if she sneak out of the house. It will end badly for her anyway, why did she have to be so reckless?"

Matthew was sure that this would have led to all sorts of arguments, and surely Robert would have forbidden his daughter to leave the house. In some way it would have been better for her if she had indeed received the permission to go to the counting of the vote: somehow it would have put the situation under a new light and in this way maybe her punishment would have been lessened a bit. If someone knew that she was in that yard, if someone told her that she could have gone there it would have been an advantage. Sybil might have been accused of recklessness and naïvety but she wouldn't have been accused of disobeying orders - which had been to not get involved in such things -.

"I tried to convince her to leave more than just once, she wouldn't listen. I do think that she thought that me and Lady Crawley were just making up stories. It is hard to believe to such stories when one never has been a part of it, and I do believe that Lady Sybil tends to see the best in every person"

"She does, and although it can be a good thing, sometimes it just seems as a curse"

Sybil opened her eyes and blinked a couple of times trying to let her vision become less blurry. Her head ached like mad and she felt a dull pain on her temple. She couldn't remember what happened, all she remembers is the fight and losing her balance but after that the world just went black. She tried to sit up right but was stopped by her cousin who placed a hand on her shoulder and ordered her to remain there lying.

"Sybil we are taking you to my mother's and then I'm going to Downton to fetch Mary for help. Branson will stay with you with mother and she will make sure that everything is all right. You know that once you are back at Downton they are going to skin you alive?"

"I didn't mean this to happen" she whispered "Mama will be disappointed, I promised her I would have stayed safe"

"You should worry about Robert not Cora"

"I know, it's just that I... Mama gave me her permission and trusted me to come straight back home as soon as things would have been dangerous. Tom advised me to go home from the beginning and I didn't listen to any of them"

"We'll think about that later, now we just have to check that you are not badly injured. I guess that you waking up is already a progress. And there we are" said Matthew as Crawley house appeared in front of them.

It was a small building, especially if one compared it with the other buildings owned by the Crawleys. Its position was strategically placed in the village, perhaps not in the center of it but less then five minutes ish from the closest shops. It had been empty for years, but had been handed to Matthew Crawley and his mother Isobel as they first arrived in town.

Pratt parked the car in the driveway, Tom and Matthew helped Sybil to reach the house door. It didn't take much for Isobel Crawley to open the door and even less to notice Sybil's state: the blood on her temple and the blood stains on her dress, the loosened hair. She was a complete and utter mess, not counting the fact that she was as white as a sheet.

"Mother, it's nothing serious we gather but we need your help"

"Then come in. Make her lie down on the sofa while I fetch what I need"

Without any further question Sybil was taken into the drawing-room and made lie down on the sofa, some pillows placed beneath her head to let her lie down a little upright. Matthew talked quickly to his mother and then left the house, letting Pratt driving him to Downton Abbey in order to fetch Mary.

"How did it happen?" asked Isobel to Tom as she started to clean Sybil's wound "Sybil this might sting a bit" she warned her, but the girl let out a protest anyway.

"At the vote counting in Ripon, we..." Tom paused a moment and breathed in deeply. Talking about what happened meant bringing all the memories back and mentally reliving it, he didn't wish to do it. he didn't want to see Sybil's body there on the stones again, nor the impact she had with the table. He felt responsible for what happened but most of all, in the moment he saw that man hit Sybil's face and her falling backwards he had felt a dull pain in his chest and the first thing that came to his mind was that he wasn't ready to lose her.

"There has been a fight and we found ourselves in the middle of it. Mr. Crawley was attacked first, and then Lady Sybil throw herself to part him from his aggressor but she was hit herself and lost her balance"

"I should have left. He told me to leave but I didn't listen. And I didn't listen to you nor to mama either" murmured Sybil.

"Don't think about now, let us think in making you feel better first" she said and then resumed cleaning the wound - that meanwhile had stopped bleeding - and applying some iodine on it.

"My God! Oh my darling!" screamed Mary as she saw her sister lying on the sofa in a mess. Matthew had given her a quick summary of what happened when he had come to Downton to fetch her, but it didn't prepare her to the scene in front of her.

"I didn't know what to do, we thought it wise to bring her here first"

"You did right. Mama might have fainted seeing her like this as for papa..."

Mary turned around, only then realizing that there was Tom in the room too. She felt anger rising inside her, a visceral anger that was becoming bigger than the worry she felt for her sister in that moment. Surely it was his fault, all that encouraging her to talk about politics, to be more interested and not to mention the inappropriateness of the entire situation, this crazy friendship that Sybil had developed with that man.

"You..."

"No. Branson hadn't anything to do with it Mary!" Sybil said, interrupting her sister from saying words that she would have never accepted to her "I asked mama if I could have gone to the by-elections, promising I would have stayed safe. She said yes and I went. Branson wanted me to leave and I refused"

"Are you telling the truth Sybil?"

"I am. Mr. Branson urged me to leave more than once, I just didn't listen"

"I may be a socialist but I'm not a lunatic, it wasn't the first time I have been a participant to such an event and I knew far too well how the world works" said Tom.

"Papa will be very angry, will he?"

"I'm afraid he will. God, Sybil what were you thinking of?"

"I didn't want to miss my very first by-election. I couldn't have missed it"

"Of course you could" replied Matthew once more.

"What were you doing there?" asked Isobel to her son.

"I worked only half of the day, I completely forgot about the elections. I spotted Sybil in the crowd and the rest you know"

Mary was grateful that Matthew saw Sybil in the crowd, if it wasn't for him things might have been very different. Despite her sister's reassurances that Tom Branson hadn't anything to do with it she blamed him. Yes, Sybil was strong-minded and he wouldn't have been able to drag her sister out of there and she understood that it was probably because of his job that he had been in that yard and not because of masochistic reasons or a wish to take part to a riot. And she was a little glad that there had been one person who was acquainted with Sybil, who tried to make her see reason and who would have watched over her. And yet she couldn't not blame him. Yes, she was sure that he would have taken Sybil to safety, yes he tried to persuade her to go home and call it a day but the first reason Sybil found herself in the yard was because of him. Because ever since that night at the Mundhis Sybil had been more passionate about her ideas, because her sister had a new resolution and if asked 'would have Sybil gone to the by elections and to the rallies - because no doubt it hadn't been the first time - if Tom Branson hadn't encouraged her political opinions' she would have answered no.

Matthew knelt down beside the sofa and smiled to Sybil. "Do you think you can make it back home?"

"I do, if you will take me"

"Then come" he took her hand and helped her to get up, taking her out of the house towards the car.

They put Sybil in the car and right before Mary stepped in Branson stopped her. He had to ask Mary Crawley this one favor, otherwise he wasn't sure that he could have found his peace again.

"Will you let me know, how she is doing? Please."

"If you want to, I will. Do you need a ride back to Ripon?"

"No, I will walk. But thank you Milady"


	6. May 1914, Consequences

_A/N: I've rewritten this chapter several times and despite the feeling that it's still sloppy and unrealistic in some parts, this was the best version of it. I hope you will like it anyway.  
_

_As usual I'm sorry about eventual mistakes._

* * *

**May 1914, Consequences**

The calm before the storm. Never had Sybil clearly understood what it meant but now, sitting on her bed with her mother beside her, her two sisters standing on one side of the room and her father right in front of her, it all became clear. There was a moment before the outburst - in this case her father's - when everything seemed frozen in time, silence had fallen in the room and one could have heard the noise of a feather falling on the pavement. This silence was soon to be broken, Lord Grantham's face already mirrored his feelings and it was like he was gathering all the words he would have needed before he started to talk to Sybil.

Sybil knew that it was inevitable, her father would have scolded her that same evening and not tomorrow as she hoped he would have. She was tired but she was ready to face her father: she would have listened to him only to a certain point, she was in the wrong only for part of the story and not for everything. And although she regretted not leaving earlier putting herself and Branson, and Matthew in danger, she did not regret going to the counting. She didn't regret going to the rally and she wouldn't have stopped caring.

Caring was important. She lived in the world and her opinion mattered, the world had to change sooner or later. She couldn't just sit there and think about nothing. There was injustice, and there were inevitable changes at the door and she would have supported as much as she could.

"And you never thought about asking my permission once?" yelled Lord Grantham at his daughter.

"I knew you would have disapproved! That's why I didn't ask you"

"Robert, I gave her permission to go" replied Cora calmly "She promised to stay safe"

"But it didn't work! Cora, how could you give her the permission to go?"

"I didn't see no harm in it. I thought Sybil was sensible enough to leave at the right moment"

"Sensible? She does know very little of the world! And if she was sensible we would not be here, she would not be here with a cut on her temple and blood on her dress"

"Can't we talk about it tomorrow Robert? Sybil needs some sleep"

"No, we are doing this now!"

"Surely papa..." tried Edith.

The whole matter could have been delayed to the following morning surely, after all with a night of sleep in the middle of it nothing would have changed.

"We are just spoiling her! The mad clothes, the newspapers... But I will do something from this moment on, I can assure you!"

At this point Sybil snapped. How could her father think that all of this happened because of her being spoiled? How could he think that she did all of this out of mare boredom? It didn't depend on the frocks, on the fact that she bought a pair of harem pants instead of a gown and most certainly it didn't depend on the fact that she read newspapers. Why was he so blind? Why didn't he see her for how she truly was?

"This has nothing to do with all of it. And I am truly sorry that I have disobeyed you but it's important for me. I'm interested, I am political and I have opinions! I have been long before I started to read newspapers and you knew that! You just don't listen to me, nor care!" she yelled back.

"How dare you!"

"But it's true! Not once have I been asked of my thought, all of you just ignore it and then you act surprised when it happens!"

Silence fell back into the room. The last words that Sybil said left an echo and for a moment everyone thought about them. Was it really true? Had they the whole time overlooked who Sybil was? No doubt. But it wasn't just the political thoughts, nor the interest she had in the world around her: there was something more - her inability to adapt to the life she was living -, something which her family didn't see nor was aware of and didn't come up in the conversation. She should have spoken out, now that she was partially freeing herself of a burden that had bothered her for so long but somehow the words remained on her tongue. Maybe it wasn't the perfect moment, no it wasn't absolutely the perfect moment. Sybil already stepped over the line and although her parents somehow looked as if they would have let this thing pass, that they wouldn't have gotten mad because of her accusations they would have gotten mad if she had revealed the rest of her thought.

_One step at time._

"I'm disappointed Sybil, I won't deny it. And I'm already sorry" said Lord Grantham.

Being criticized by his daughter, he would have never imagined it. He had to admit it, they should have seen this coming (maybe not the accident but definitely Sybil's participation in political event). He took a deep breath and looked at his daughter, he would have never imagined that something like this could have happened. Not from Sybil.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow morning, try to get some sleep" he added before leaving the room, followed by Cora.

Once their parents were outside the room, Mary took place beside Sybil on the bed and took her sister's hand in hers. Edith smiled and then said "It didn't go that bad, you'll see that he will be calmed down entirely until tomorrow morning. He will be more reasonable, but you did wrong in going without his permission"

"I know... But he wouldn't have given me the permission and I wanted to be there" explained Sybil, repeating herself once more.

"Darling I have to ask you this one thing before we leave you to your rest. The reason why you went there, the reason why you've become more passionate about this things is not Tom Branson, is it?"

"No, and Mary he really wanted me to leave ever since the beginning of the counting. Don't blame him"

"I won't. Now rest, we will talk tomorrow morning"

"Who's Tom Branson?" asked Edith bewildered. She had never heard the name before and the reason why Mary put his name in the conversation was entirely obscure to her.

"None of your business, so stop meddling" replied Mary sharply before giving her sister a kiss on the forehead. Then stood up and walked towards the door.

"Mary?" Sybil stopped her "Can you send me Gwen?"

"I will"

Gwen. The thing she needed most in that moment was a friend, someone she could have spoken to about everything that was on her heart. Heavens, she wanted to cry. Not because of sadness but because it was the easiest way to free herself from all her emotions.

"Milady? You asked for me?" asked Gwen as she opened the door.

"Yes. Oh Gwen" Sybil's voice broke down at the end of the sentence.

Gwen stepped in and sat down near her friend. She knew what happened, the staff had gossiped about it as soon as Sybil arrived back at Downton and if she could have been of any help she would have been there.

"I.. I made a complete and utter mess! I'm a mess, and I said things to papa... But sometimes it's like they don't see me at all. You know what Mary asked? If my attitude was because I met Tom Branson back at the Mundhis. She didn't even think about the fact that I might have done it for my choice"

Sybil told Gwen everything from the accident to the discussion with her parents. All of them were things she could have never told Mary or Edith, well she could have but they wouldn't have understood it. There wasn't a large age gap between them - two years with Edith and three with Mary - but the three of them didn't share many interests and it was hard for her to open up with them because there were moments in which the three of them were on three different wave lengths. With Gwen it was all easier and after the first awkward moments when Gwen was reticent about Sybil telling her to call her by name and to be friends, instead being formal, the two of them had shared a very strong bond. And now Gwen was her best friend and confidant.

"Things will look better in the morning. That's what Anna always tells me" said Gwen in the end "But, if I can talk bluntly, it's good thing to be interested in the world around us"

"We'll see. Thank you Gwen for having listened to me"

"You're welcome. Good night"

_What did I do? My actions, my egoistic inclinations have dragged everyone in the most absurd situation. _

What if Mary would have told Lord Grantham about Tom Branson, Mary already blamed him for a lot of things.

Sybil had seen the look in her sister's eyes: the hate and blame were more than evident. But if there was one person to blame, Sybil was sure of this, it was her and no one else.

_What a mess _is the last thought before she closed her eyes.

A mess: that's what Tom was when he arrived home. It started to rain as he was half way through the journey with the result of him being soaked wet once he had reached his flat.

After changing his clothes and making some tea, Tom sat down in front of his type writer ready to write down his article for 'The York Daily Report' about the results of the by-elections. He already had some ideas, he was ready to talk about the inability to recognize imminent changes and the refusal to choose what was best for the future, but he didn't manage to put them down on paper in a coherent way. As soon as he had to think about the counting of the votes, the image of Sybil Crawley lying on the ground came back to her mind and so did the feelings of guilt and panic he had felt when it happened.

So that was how his parents had felt many years ago when it was him who got injured in a fight, with the difference that Sybil Crawley found herself in that situation by chance.

He was devastated by the events of the afternoon, which was strange: he didn't even know Sybil Crawley that much. Right he was caring because somehow she was under his responsibility and he probably would have cared for the next person who hit their head on the edge of a table but somehow he imagined that even then it would have been different.

He passed his hands through his hair and sighed.

If only he could have had news about Sybil's condition, maybe that would have helped to ease his pain, to calm down his feelings and finally manage to free his mind.

When Lady Mary accepted to let him know about her sister's improvement he had felt a glimpse of hope.

Hope.

And maybe, only maybe, if Sybil would have been fine he would have felt less guilty.

_How did we come to this? _

Why didn't he just drag the girl out of there?

Wasn't there something he could have done to prevent the accident?

Tom analyzed step by step all the events that lead to them being involved in a fight, he thought about how many things he could have done to stop it. He could have tried to persuade her harder, he could have...

_Why didn't I think about it back then? Why?_

He wasn't even sure why he was thinking about all of it over and over again.

He tried to type down a few lines about the result of the elections but it didn't work, thirty minutes later he had written only two sentences and they seemed the worst thing he had ever put on paper. He just couldn't concentrate.

_Damn it! You can do better than this!_

He tried to do something else for a while. He read a couple of pages from a book, tried to write a letter back home but still nothing. Sybil's Crawley and the accident at the yard were still the only thing he had in his mind and apparently there was no chance to change things as they were.

Then an idea struck him.

He could have written something about the violence at rallies and at by-elections, basing his article about what had happened that same afternoon. He wouldn't have mentioned Sybil Crawley but it wasn't necessary, she wasn't the only victim of outbursts of violence.

The violence was a key point in rallies, it was known - and he had lived it personally - that it happened frequently. But how could people be more interested in political rallies if they were not safe in joining the crowd and listen to what the party representatives had to say? Yes, vote was not for everyone but for those who had it not everyone was interested. And if they were a little, going to a place where they would have risked their safety would have diminished the interest.

It was a vicious circle indeed.

_It's unbelievable that, in the year 1914, people should be afraid to attend political rallies and by-elections because of the riots that might explode. How could there be more interest if it's not safe to attend such events? People should be given the chance to listen personally to what the party representatives have to say. [...] _

He typed the first draft of the article in a row, without interrupting. The idea he had at the beginning was developed quickly, and Tom found out that it was easier to write something that would have condemned the harsh reality rather than just giving a description of the result of the vote. It was more interesting, for him and for the readers in general after all there were more things to say about the outburst of violence and not just reading a bunch of numbers and yet again a list of reasons about why the conservative party had one with a large majority of votes.

He checked out the first draft for any possible mistakes and wrote it again. He was satisfied the result even if it wasn't exactly the piece he had in mind in the beginning, but then again Declan had given him entire freedom about what to write so it was safe.

The question was: did he feel better now? No and at this point he was pretty sure that the only thing that would have helped him to feel less guilty and less worried was receiving news about Sybil.


	7. June 1914, The Day of the Interview

_A/N: So here is chapter seven. Gwen's interview for the job as secretary and Sybil and Tom meeting again._

_As usual: I'm sorry about eventual mistakes. Enjoy and leave a review if you want to._

* * *

**June 1914, The Day of the Interview**

Sybil woke up early in the morning, excited about the upcoming day. It was the day of Gwen's interview at 'The York Daily Report' and Sybil was going to accompany her. Gwen had been a little reticent about the situation, after all the refusal she had had until that day she was nearly going to give up. Sybil saw how the enthusiasm of her friend was slowly fading away and she knew that it was hard for Gwen to believe that one day she could have been a secretary.

_There will always be someone more suited for the job than I am._

She had lost the count of the number of times she had heard that sentence coming out from her friends mouth, but whatever were Gwen's thought Sybil did absolutely not share them.

Yes Gwen had never worked as a secretary before, but she completed her correspondence course with the highest marks, she was willing to work hard and was intelligent. What did it matter that she had never done secretarial tasks before? Sybil was sure that Gwen was more than adapt to fulfill those tasks just like the next person with more experience was.

She would have not given up, not until the moment Gwen got rid of her housemaid uniform and worked behind a desk. If it meant to keep looking Sybil would have done so, and she would have continued to encourage her friend. One day, hopefully sooner than later Gwen would have fulfilled her dream. There must have been someone ready to employ her, someone who recognized that references were not really that important if someone had the required skill and will.

She was positive about the whole situation, she was positive that the interview at 'The York Daily Report' would have led to something and who know maybe they would have hired her? She hoped so. It would have been terrific for Gwen to work there.

Everything had been planned out carefully, neither Sybil nor Gwen wanted to repeat what happened the time they went to an interview in Morton. First of all there was no need on Gwen's side to sneak out of the house after having faked illness, it had worked but they had arrived back so late that nearly Anna caught her. Not that Anna was someone who would have reported Gwen to his lordship, she would have kept the secret but Gwen preferred doing things in broad daylight. With Gwen's day out and Sybil's request to her parents to go to York in look for some book she had to order, the two of them were completely free to go as they were pleased. No one knew that they were going together, and if her father would have found out that her best friend was her maid, Sybil would have never heard the end of it. Probably Lord Grantham's outrage after the votes would have been nothing compared to this: his daughter being friends with the housemaid and being seen together outside, it would have been a scandal.

Sybil giggled and got up, washing her face in the basin and taking the clothes she would have worn for her day out. She chose a long blue skirt and a white shirt with light blue stripes on it. It would have done, neither of them was to warm and this way she wouldn't have been afraid to be too hot during the day. It would have been simple and perfect after all she was not going to a ball, just a morning out with her friend, helping her friend to find a job.

The knock on the door made her jump.

"Milady? Lady Mary said yesterday to start with you , since you are going away for the morning"

"Thank you Anna, I've already decided what to wear"

"That's all right Milady, it doesn't bother me at all"

After being ready, Sybil went downstairs to eat something for her breakfast. Her father was the only person sitting at the table, and he was deeply immersed in the newspaper he was reading that he nearly missed his daughter's arrival.

"Good morning, papa" she greeted him while taking her place and beginning to eat.

"Sybil, I didn't hear you. Why so early?"

"I'm going to York today, remember? I asked you and you said yes" she replied, highlighting the fact that she had indeed received his approval about her plans.

"Ah yes, about those book. Although I can't understand why you have to go to York to get them, and why you have to get them yourself"

"Because in Ripon I have to order them but they said that maybe in York I can find them in store."

"And when will you come back?"

With Gwen's interview at half past eleven, and the necessity to buy at least a couple of book Sybil had decided to go back home after luncheon. It would have given her and Gwen the chance to do everything with all the calm they wanted.

"After luncheon, in the early afternoon. It shouldn't take too much once I am there, is there something you need from York?"

"No, nothing that comes to my mind right now. And you are sure that you don't want to delay your trip when Pratt can bring you there?"

"I don't mind having to take the omnibus, and papa I have to buy Imogen's birthday present and with the upcoming season I don't know if I will do it in time otherwise"

"All right then, just be careful and when you are done come straight back home"

For the rest of breakfast they both stayed silent, Sybil tried to stay quiet and not let her enthusiasm show. After the last time, after all the arguments she had had with him, Robert had started to pay more attention at his daughter's actions.

But she didn't receive any further inquiry about her plans, so she was definitely safe. She said goodbye to her father, returned quickly to her room to take her wallet and the newspaper from that same morning before heading outside.

She and Gwen had decided to meet at the end of the driving way that lead to Downton, this way they would have been sure that no one would have seen them. Sybil knew that she was slightly late, so she quickened her pace and there she was, Gwen standing at the drive way entry. She was wearing the red outfit that Sybil had given her as a present when Gwen's first interview had been scheduled, and she was playing with her hands nervously.

"Gwen!" said Sybil "Have you been waiting for long?"

"Not much. But I'm starting to believe that this is wrong, they will never consider me. Let's admit it: there will always someone better than me. I should just stay here"

"No Gwen listen. Tom Branson told me that they will not look at your reference. He said that many candidates despite good references were not really hard-working and you are. So let's go!"

The two girls walked towards the village and then waited at the omnibus station for the bus to come. They stood silent and then suddenly Gwen looked at Sybil and giggled.

"What?"

"I just realized, I will see the famous Tom Branson"

Gwen looked at Sybil and saw her friend lightly blushing. In the last months Sybil had often talked about the man she had met at the Mundhi's dinner and by the look of it, Sybil had never realized how much she had actually talked about him. Whether it was because of a comparison to someone else she had just met or just to underline the fact that he had indeed encouraged her to talk about her interest thus seeing her for what she truly was. Sybil probably wasn't even doing it on purpose, but whether or not it was this way didn't matter because Gwen just got curious anyway.

"What a wonderful thing, isn't it?" replied Sybil, rolling her eyes.

"You know, it will be a consolation if they don't take me. At least I know the person you keep telling me all about all the time"

"I don't talk about him _that_ much!"

"No, not that much. Just much" teased Gwen "But who cares right? I'm just curious that's all. I was thinking, what will I do if they ask me about my current work? Because I will say about the correspondence course and everything but if they ask me what can I answer. I can't say 'I'm a housemaid'"

"Why ever not?"

"Because, I'm a maid and it has nothing to do with what they look in candidates"

"Gwen, don't let yourself down. If they ask, tell them the truth plain and simple"

"I don't seem to have another chance"

_And it wouldn't be the first time that someone turns me down _ but she didn't add it. She was tired of thinking in a negative way, but she found out that this was easier to bear a refusal. Not having to high expectations was the trick. Maybe she was really mad to think that there was a way to make her dream come true.

"It will be fine, trust me"

"Let's hope so" replied Gwen with a smile.

The office of 'The York Daily Report' was in turmoil. The last couple of weeks had been pretty though for everyone, they still hadn't a secretary and wouldn't have had one for another week at least. The absence of a secretary was wearing everyone out, instead of having one person to do a specific amount of work they had to divide it between staff members with the result of making everything more chaotic than usual. It happened several times, that papers stuff got lost because it was placed on different desks or that a pile of pages had to be sorted out again. It was a temporary solution but not the most convenient and comfortable one.

Of course it could have been worse but it didn't mean it was less annoying.

Tom looked at the calendar of appointments regarding the vacant place for a secretary, they seemed without an end but then, as he turned the page for the appointments of the day his attention got caught by the name Gwen Dawson. She would have been the first one for the day, but it wasn't because of that. It came back to his mind that Miss Gwen Dawson was Sybil Crawley's friend, he had completely forgotten about it and if he had known he would have written a letter of excuses for the latter because of what happened at counting of the votes.

Tom knew that Sybil had indeed recovered thanks to a quick note written by Lady Mary, but that hadn't stopped him from feeling guilty about the whole matter. The guilt and pain had eased a little but they were still there, and they would have remained there until he would have excused himself.

"When is the appointment with Gwen Dawson?" he asked looking up at Declan who just entered the office.

Declan gave him a questioning glance before answering "Eleven thirty. Why?"

Tom shrugged "Nothing. I have to tell her something which she will have to tell to Sybil Crawley"

Everyone looked at him bewildered, after all his sentence didn't have much sense.

"I'm not going to ask any questions. I have this feeling that you are going to answer 'it's complicated'" replied Declan.

"Well, it is complicated"

And it really was because he would have had to tell them first about the dinner at the Mundhi's back in March, then about the rally and then about the by-elections. But they wouldn't have stopped at the basic facts, they would have started to ask questions about them and the things they talked about, and why on earth did he have to send her a message.

"Wait, you never told us that you know Sybil Crawley!" said Robert from his desk.

"You never asked me"

"Touché"

John made some gestures towards him and mouthed _we need to talk. _ The last time he had heard something about Tom and Sybil Crawley had been right after Isabel's birth, and if the interactions between his friend and the youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham ad stopped there, there wouldn't have been any need to sent messages via friends. He was curious indeed and he would have never left Tom alone with it. What was going on with Tom and Sybil Crawley?

"John stop it!" scream Tom for exasperation.

"Stop what?"

"Making faces" replied Tom.

"He's just practicing for when he plays with little Isabel" joked Declan.

"No, he is trying to annoy me. Which you did, so congratulations!"

Tom sighed. He would have never learned not to talk about certain matters in front of John. Why had he forgotten how annoying they all were? He could have just waited for Gwen to walk in the door, after all he was staying the whole day in the office sooner or later he would have seen her.

"Don't get angry Tom. We are just joking"

"I know, but I will never understand why it's always about me and my life"

"Lack of life more likely"

Everyone laughed again.

"You know what, I am not sure that the next secretary will last. She is going to work in a madhouse" hissed Tom.

"We'll see, first we have to find one" replied Declan with a smile before returning to his office.

Everyone returned to their tasks, and the matter was abandoned apart from some giggles and subtle questions now and then. Tom looked at the clock: eleven, still thirty minutes to go. He should have started to think about what Gwen should have reported to Sybil.

"And here we are" said Sybil as she and Gwen arrived in front of the building that contained the offices of 'The York Daily Report' "what floor does it say?"

"The second. How do I look?"

"Like a real business woman! I will wait down here, and Gwen"

Gwen stopped on the second step and turned around.

"Such a good luck"

"Thank you!"

_Miss Dawson, if you will follow me._

Sybil smiled once more before sitting down on the steps and starting to read her newspaper.

Gwen looked herself around as she was escorted to Declan Smith's office. She noticed that it was a small space and yet there was something in the atmosphere that attracted her. The sound of the type writers was a pleasant noise as back ground.

She tried to hide her nervousness as best as she could, but apparently she didn't handle it very well, because the first thing that Declan told her a part from sitting down and the usual sentences of circumstances was "Don't worry, we don't bite"

"I'm sorry sir."

"There is nothing to be sorry about, let's begin shall we. Now Miss Gwen Dawson, how old are you?"

"I am nineteen years old, Sir"

"As for your qualifications?"

"I did a correspondence course and passed it with the highest marks"

"Remarkable"

_Thank heavens, he hasn't asked me about my current position._

Sybil was probably just as nervous as her friend, just as if it was her to do the interview too. And yet there was nothing to worry about, she had faith in her friend and in her skills and she was sure that this time it would have worked. She hoped that it would have worked, Gwen a secretary! It would have been wonderful for her to realize her dreams and plans for the future and if Gwen managed to do so, one day perhaps she would have been able to realize her dreams too.

Sybil wondered for a moment how it would have felt applying for a job and have an interview. With things as they were, most likely she would have ever know. Unless things changed, she would have never had permission to get a job. Her parents would have been horrified at the only idea! She still remembered her family's faces when Matthew told them that he would have worked as a lawyer even if he had become the heir.

And with Matthew they had come around, excusing him because he was new to that kind of life. But with her? They would have locked her inside Downton for the rest of her days.

She got distracted by the sound of the main door opening. She jumped up and stood near the stair her newspaper in hand. Not long after a young woman holding a baby entered, they smiled to each other before the woman made her way towards the second floor.

Emalee held Isabel with one hand and opened the office door with the other one. She was greeted happily by everyone, and so was little Isabel who soon became the center of attention. Since her birth in March she had taken her to the office several times, and ever since the beginning everyone started to adore her.

"Ems! What are you doing here?" asked John to his wife.

"I was passing and I thought to come her, see if I could get you all something. Is Declan still doing interviews?"

"He is. There's someone with him right now"

"Tom, can talk to you for a moment?" she asked.

"Of course, what is it?"

"I think that you might find it interesting that there is Sybil Crawley waiting downstairs. Why are you all letting her wait downstairs? That poor girl"

"Sybil Crawley is downstairs?" Tom asked bewildered.

Emalee nodded in response.

"We had no idea, she must have accompanied her friend. I'll go and talk to her, see if she wants to come up"

"I had no doubt"

Tom left the office, ignoring comments and questions about his intention and destination. Only Emalee gave him an understanding smile to which Tom rolled his eyes in response. He walked down the stairs and there she was: Sybil standing against the wall reading a newspaper, their newspaper.

"Lady Sybil"

"Mr. Branson. How do you do?"

"I'm all right, we are a little busy at the moment but aside from that... And you?"

"I'm waiting for Gwen. And in fact now that we are here I need to tell you something, I'm..."

"Deeply sorry for what happened at the by-elections. I hope you are doing better and that you can forgive me" said Tom all in one breath.

There, he let it out. Everything he wanted to say ever since that dreadful day had come out without any flapper.

"No, you don't understand. Mr. Branson, I am the only person to blame for what happened: I didn't think about consequences, I didn't listen to you and I acted as a spoiled and selfish person. You warned me, I chose not to care. So yes, you have nothing to do with it, don't blame yourself" Sybil stopped him.

"But you were under my responsibility and I should have insisted more about you leaving"

"It wouldn't have worked"

"And you are better now?"asked Tom.

"Fully recovered as you can see. It was nothing more than a scratch and I'm sorry for all the worry it has probably caused"

"I'm just glad that you are fine now"

A comfortable silence fell down, they looked at each other smiling and for a moment it felt as if the world had disappeared. It was just them: Sybil leaning against the wall and Tom standing right in front of her. Then Tom coughed and it was broken.

"You... You can come upstairs if you like" he mumbled.

But in the same moment Gwen arrived, so there was no need for it anymore.

"Gwen! How did it go?" asked Sybil to her friend "Oh this is Tom Branson. Mr. Branson, my friend Gwen Dawson"

"It's a pleasure. I'll return upstairs, have a good day"

"You too. So Gwen, how did it go?"

"I think they liked me. I told them I was a maid, because they asked me but Mr. Smith just said that this means I am a hard worker, and he also said I have great skills. They will contact me in a week in case I've got the place"

"Yes! You'll see that they will take you!"

"I hope so. Was that _the _Tom Branson?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, he certainly looks just as you have described him"


	8. June 1914, Good News

**June 1914, Good News**

Downton was in a rush, both the staff and the family were running around the house trying to organize the last details about the imminent journey to London. The season was coming closer and it was the year Sybil would have made her début in society, and everything had to be planned with the biggest care. The organization of the event, of the clothes that Sybil would have needed, of the guests that would have been received in the Crawley's London house had started weeks ago but nevertheless something always seemed to be out of place or forgotten.

Everyone was running around the house busier than usual, everyone was in turmoil due to the rapidly approaching departure, everyone cared about the importance of the event in which Sybil would have taken a central place. Everyone except Sybil.

No, Sybil was more interested in what happened between her sister and Matthew the very same evening that she got hurt at the count in Ripon, the very same evening she had dragged two people she cared for in the most upsetting situation, the evening she acted as the most selfish person in the world uncaring of the consequences. Matthew and Mary were engaged. Finally. And it had been weeks before Mary told her sisters the truth.

But now, assembled in Sybil's room - with the excuse that they would have discussed outfits and helped Sybil with her poise - Mary was telling Edith and Sybil everything about that night, and in Sybil's eyes it was something much more exciting than her upcoming season. She knew that at some point Mary had indeed developed a certain fondness for their cousin even if her sister was far from admitting it. It seemed like a plot from the novels she liked so much, a novel were the two main protagonists begun their relationship with a quite passionately hatred towards each other, only two discover that they were similar than they would have thought.

Why did Mary keep it a secret for so long? Why didn't she just announced the news the moment after? It would have remained a mystery, but it was Mary's affair and at the moment the only important thing was her sister's happiness. After having lived her life knowing that she should have married a man she didn't love (and who wasn't really a nice person), just to secure her position for the rest of her life, Mary was about to have both: the long wanted position (thus the possibility to stay at Downton) and a life with a man she loved. And fortunately Matthew was nothing like Patrick.

What struck her most was that even Edith was about to find her happiness: her sister's relationship with Sir Anthony Strallan was flourishing and there was no doubt of the affection that was between them.

Edith happy. It was always news that Sybil would have applauded and welcomed with joy.

Aside from her sisters love life, Sybil enjoyed the apparent peace between them. In the whole afternoon not once had there been a cold remark, cold looks or rudeness. No, Mary and Edith seemed to get along better than usual and perhaps it was all an appearance, and perhaps it wouldn't have lasted for the following days but at the moment Sybil was grateful. It didn't happen that often and Sybil always enjoyed the moment with her sisters, when all the pettiness was set aside and everything seemed to be like the old days. The days when Mary and Edith still got along well, the days before Patrick set himself between them.

"So you love him?" asked Sybil to her sister, even though the answer was already clear.

"I do. And I think I have loved him for a long time now"

"When did it happen? Your change of feelings that is"

"I can't even tell. Looking back now, I couldn't recognize a precise moment. Of one thing I am sure: it certainly wasn't love at first sight"

No, it couldn't have been. It was a truth universally acknowledged.

"To quote you: '_Marry a man who can barely hold a knife like a gentleman?'_" said Edith with a smile on her face.

"Well he has improved" stated Mary.

"It may have not been love at first sight, but it's not less romantic" sighed Sybil.

"Hear, hear"

"Just because finding a husband and falling in love isn't one of my priorities at the moment, it doesn't mean that I can't be a romantic!"

"Darling, I wasn't criticizing you. I was just joking but if you feel offended: I take it back" Edith justified herself.

There weren't many moments when one could hear Sybil talking about romanticism and love, her interests about politics and the world were just more frequent in her dialogues. But if Lord Grantham knew about this, he would have probably gained some hope regarding Sybil's education and behavior. He would have found a confirmation that Sybil's political ideas were just a fancy and a way to keep herself busy, which in reality was the furthest thing of the truth.

"I just think that there are more important things than finding a husband! Certainly the priority should be recognizing changes that are inevitable"

_Changes that are inevitable _it had been Tom Branson to use the sentence when they first had met, but Sybil knew that it was the quickest way to summarize a series of matters that her sister wouldn't have wanted to hear. Besides there were so many things that could have entered the category of 'inevitable changes', that saying them all out loud - explaining why they were important - would have taken too much time.

"Don't tell _papa._ Nor _granny__!_"

"Especially not now that your season is coming closer"

"Don't remind me of it. Why do I have to do it? It's something useless!"

"Sybil dear, are you planning a revolution?" said Mary, imitating the Dowager Countess' voice.

"Don't be ridiculous. But you have to admit that the only purpose of it seems to be displaying girls my age as if we were objects! It's wrong. And being introduced at court won't bring anything to your life: no sense of self-realization, nothing. We are all just there because this way we might find a husband"

A husband that would have been considered appropriate for people in their status. Most of the times love didn't matter, money and position did. And it was nauseating, if one thought about it.

"It's not just that..." tried to persuade her Mary, but Sybil cut her sister off.

"It's all based on a lie! I will never act the same way I do during my season for the rest of my life! No, if I'm ever going to marry, my husband will have to love me for how I am in everyday life, and he must understand that I will never give up my political opinions just to please him!"

After hearing her sister's words, Mary thinks about herself for a moment. Ever since Matthew had asked her to become his wife, she had done nothing but questioning herself whether she should or not tell Matthew about what happened with Kemal Pamuk. The episode was part of her life, it happened and could not be denied and Matthew had all the right to know what happened.

_Every bride walks down the aisle with half the story hidden _had been her grandmother's words and yet, she didn't agree with them. If Matthew loved her for what she truly was (just how Sybil had put it) than he should have come down to terms with what happened.

"Mary?"

Sybil's voice brought her back from her moment of distraction.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"She was asking for reassessment about the upcoming dinners and balls" explained Edith.

"There is really nothing to worry about."

"But if I say the wrong thing at the wrong moment? What if I fall down in front of everyone?"

Sybil was sure that somehow she would have ended with embarrassing herself and her family. She was scared about it, and part of it was because she didn't care about the whole thing. It didn't matter to her if she would have made a good entrance in society, she didn't care about what the others might have thought, but her parents did and ever since the accident in Ripon she had tried to make things in the right way and to make them happy and proud or she would have never heard the end of it.

"You will do it right. Once you're there it will all come quite natural"

"She is right, try not to think about it too much" added Edith "We'll leave you now. It's nearly time for dinner"

Gwen was hurrying towards Sybil's room to help her change for dinner, even though Sybil was fully capable to do it herself as she had often demonstrate it. She was late, Carson had rung the gong five minutes ago but she was under shock. Just before the announcement of dinner time (thus announcing the need to change) the telephone started to rung and it had been a call for her, because... Because...

She still couldn't put it into words. It all seemed so unreal: after months of failed attempts she had finally made it.

She, Gwen Dawson, who had always worked as a maid, was a secretary!

They had taken her at 'The York Daily Report'. She had a new job. The position she dreamed about was finally hers.

Gwen felt as if she could have died for happiness any minute now.

_"Gwen, it's for you!" said William, who had answered the phone due to the absence of Mr. Carson._

When William had pronounced those words, she didn't really make a connection and as Declan Smith told her _"Miss Dawson, I have phoned to inform you that you've gotten the job" _ she had thought it was all a fruit of her imagination. hadn't she dreamed before about receiving a similar phone call?

She was so bewildered that the only answer that had come to her mind had been _"Is this real?"_

Probably it hadn't been the most intelligent thing to say, but Declan Smith had gladly reassured her that it was all real.

Even if Gwen still couldn't understand how it was possible, surely there were many people more suited than her for the place!

She was looking forward to tell everything to Sybil, it was thanks to her that she went to the interview.

_"Miss Dawson, I have phoned to inform you that you've gotten the job"_

The words kept coming back to her mind, she wanted to scream because of it. She wanted to scream for the joy, and she did - for a moment - when she had hung up the phone. Before being scolded by Mrs Hughes about her lateness.

"_We_ _will celebrate later but now you have work to do"_

She had indeed and she didn't mind doing it, because it would have meant having the possibility to announce the news to Sybil.

She knocked on the door before coming in. As she suspected, Sybil had already started to change herself and was nearly done with the work and was trying to fix her hair in a bun on her neck.

"Gwen! What do you think of the result?" asked Sybil as she twirled around the room, showing off her improved skills in getting ready all on her own.

"I couldn't have done better myself"

"One day it will come handy! Just wait." Sybil paused a moment "Are there any news about how your interview went?"

"I did it. I've got the job" admitted Gwen.

This was when Sybil started to scream, uncaring if someone might have heard her. It was probably wrong on her side, it should have been Gwen to react like this, but she didn't care: she was just as happy. Her friend had finally managed to realize her dreams.

Gwen did it. She shaped her own destiny and with her own resources and will had managed to escape her position as a housemaid and was about to start working as a secretary.

"It's terrific! Gwen, I'm so excited and happy. When did they call?"

"Five minutes ago, perhaps ten. Just before Mr. Carson had rung the gong"

"You have to tell me everything! Why do I have to have dinner now? Well, you start now and then we will continue our discussion later. And don't forget to tell me all the details!" exclaimed Sybil with a smile.

As said, Gwen did tell her friend about the phone call and all the other interesting details such as the fixed date for her starting to work. It was the most interesting thing that Sybil had heard in days - if one did count out Mary's engagement - and the only thing that saddened her was that she wouldn't have been at Downton when Gwen would have started her new work, otherwise they could have organized a meeting. If only it weren't for the season...

"But you will write to me, about your work and how it is?" she asked Gwen.

"Of course, and you must tell me about your season"

"I doubt it will be that interesting, and it is not exciting compared with what you are going to do" admitted Sybil.

Dinners compared to real work... Sybil would have definitely chosen the second option without having any regrets.


End file.
